Harry Potter and the Effects of Inattentional Blindness
by AwfulLawful
Summary: Harry and Ginny break up under reasonable circumstances. Harry has the hard part - he has to deal with infertility. Or so he thought, until his creature genes come to light. Harry/Lucius/Narcissa
1. Open but not Broken

Screw the **Gancanagh** – he makes the story too complicated. I wrote four different outlines and didn't like them.

I also don't like it when Harry and Ginny's inevitable breakup in stories is entirely her doing, like some childish delusion in which a girl wants an already taken guy and goes through fantasies about how it would be all the competition's fault. Ginny isn't evil. Nor is she unreasonable, a cheater, psychotically possessive or abusive, or dead. Please stop killing her. Molly went through a lot to get that girl and it sucks that everyone keeps offing her for the convenience of a story. Quit it. T.T;; It makes me sad.

So, here's a more plausible explanation. It is angst-ridden and long, but breakups always are. I can't seem to write- "Ginny's dead, move on."

There also seems to be little real portrayal of how Harry's time with the Dursleys may have affected him, and I had to include that too.

I promise it'll be a fun story later on, we just have to get there.

* * *

"Harry… this is both the sweetest and most annoying thing you've ever done. This is a bad time for presents."

"I disagree," he said smoothly.

Not many people succeeded in breaking up with grace and understanding. Technically, though, the big fight had occurred while they were still dating. Now, a month later, Harry and Ginny had decided to meet in a public place to talk about things. They had ended up in the Muggle coffee shop near the Ministry where the patrons had an odd habit of wearing robes and cloaks and generally confusing the hell out of the staff.

Thanks to Harry's newfound ability to suggest plausible explanations for the odd things that happened around Muggles lots of people in the area now thought there was a secretive acting club or role-playing group on the street that was primarily made up of people that were embarrassed about their cosplay habit. Harry, who still mostly wore Muggle clothes (and cloaks because they were comfortable) partly agreed with that theory. He knew plenty of Muggle-born witches and wizards who seemed to have forgotten where they came from, and treated the wizarding world like a never-ending role play. Like Hermione, for one, who no longer knew how to light a fire without her wand.

If that made them happy, so be it. But Harry liked his t-shirts and jeans, thank you very much.

And that was part of their problem. Just because Harry was fine with something did not mean everyone else was, or visa-versa

Harry shook his head indulgently, setting the box gently on the table. "Want me to take them back?"

"No," she said quickly, smiling. "No, I'll keep them."

They were beautiful earrings, warm gold forged into pregnant mares, each with a silver foal standing beside her. The back of each was engraved with the message, "Not all treasure is silver and gold." to illustrate the meaning of value. Harry found it hilarious that no witch or wizard would know where the quote came from, so it was a bit of an inside joke between him and Hermione already, as she had helped him pick them out. Harry had enchanted them himself with shielding spells and reinforced with them with permanency so that it wouldn't weaken or dissipate the same way his mother had done with her gift to Slughorn all those years ago. They would draw power from him as long as he lived and protect the wearer, even if they only had one. He had given her two sets of them so that she could give one to her inevitable daughter, since he knew she would have one come hell or high water or six sons beforehand.

Ginny knew she had a problem accepting gifts like this. All Weasleys did, in fact. It irked Harry to no end because every time he tried to give her or Ron or their parents something nice there was always an awkward feeling about it. They were grateful yet frustrated. Harry just wanted to give his friends nice things, and the Weasleys were uncomfortable accepting anything expensive because their living situation had hard-wired them to be very aware of money on a constant basis. Somehow, no matter how much love was in the present, it always felt like a debt.

In Harry's opinion it was easier to slay a Basilisk and outfly a Dragon on a broomstick and break into Gringotts than try to give a Weasley anything expensive. Ron was getting slightly better about it, since Harry had the 'you saved my life' card to play from time to time. He and Hermione were still laughing about the horrified look Ron had given him when Harry handed them the deed to a house as a wedding gift. Harry didn't see how it was a problem to begin with since he hadn't bought the property; it was an inheritance from the Black family. Just one of a dozen or so properties nobody was looking after. The fact that it had a large-ish library stocked with books on the subjects Hermione needed for her career and a yard big enough to teach children Quidditch in was coincidental. Mostly.

There are a lot of issues that come up when love is involved, and Harry and Ginny had fallen into a terrible trap. They definitely loved each other. That was not something that either of them had questioned. It was the way they interacted that had ruined any chance of them marrying, though.

Two in the morning and they were still talking. The place was supposed to close hours ago, but Harry was a regular and the manager heard them talking when he brought them drinks and he'd assured them that he could stay open. By the end of the talk Ginny and Harry hugged each other fondly, pleased with their decision, and Harry left the owner a massive tip.

The hard part now was announcing to the Family that they'd called off the wedding.

Mere hours later they were at the Burrow in the dining room, sitting at the table surrounded by the family Ginny had and Harry desperately wanted. They had decided to get this whole thing over with in one day like tearing a patch from a wound that had scabbed over.

Harry sat silently in the din of shouting and demands for explanations until Ginny cast a flare to get everyone's attention. She looked to Harry, and he sighed. He faced the loudest voice of protest and began.

"Ron, I lived in a cupboard until I was eleven," Harry said plainly, as if he were talking about something as simple and inevitable as bad weather. "Not just at night either. When I wasn't working I was locked in. Uncle Vernon kept pesticides for the garden and other things in there, in the shelf above my cot. There were all sorts of wires and things above me with electricity flowing through them. I didn't get out to use the loo much, and I had to hold it a lot. Even when they had the windows open in the summer and it got hot in there, they wouldn't let me out. That wasn't good for me, and the Healers said I have an enlarged liver, which means I had to have been exposed to a lot of toxins while I was growing."

If anything, the silence was louder than the yelling. Harry's reluctant voice was as prominent as an explosion in the vacuum of stunned quiet. Ginny stared into her coffee. She had already heard it all, and both she and Harry had finished throwing their fits about it.

"I wasn't fed well, and you all know that stunted my growth and development. It was only luck that I managed to catch up after getting sent to Hogwarts, but even then I only ate well outside the summer months. There's a difference between scrawny and emaciated. The Dursleys had several reasons for putting me in baggy clothes, and being too nasty to buy new ones was only part of it; I didn't look as bony in them as I would have in the right size. It created the illusion that I wasn't too thin and that I was just wearing things that were too big for me, and robes weren't much different. They never took me to a doctor. I can't recall ever getting a vitamin or flu shot…"

"Stop," Hermione snapped. "We get it." She wiped her eyes with her napkin and slammed her hand back down on the table, angry and without a target to let it out on. Ron just shook with fury in his seat, keeping himself in check because his mother was sobbing and he didn't want to make it worse. The older Weasley men were listening intently. All but Charlie were here, since Norberta was sick and he'd promised to watch over her closely for Hagrid's sake.

"He's well enough now," Ginny said gently. "Believe me, we've already gotten him through sessions with a mind-healer. Harry is not _fine_, but he certainly isn't _off_ either. It's an awful thing to think about, but the mind-healers said living like that helped him cope with the war much better than the rest of us did. The hardships almost felt normal, and didn't tax his body much more than simply existing before. That's why he hasn't had to go to St. Mungo's for Post-Traumatic Stress like we have. Harry… he was used to it, to an extent. And by the time the war was over he felt better about how he'd grown up. His mind is amazingly well-balanced like that. The war was a sort of therapy for him in itself. He gained a sense of worth when he won, and that hasn't left him."

"Right," Harry agreed, smiling at her. "But we knew there had to be some consequences of living like that for so long. When people are cornered like that they have two choices; fight or give up. I chose to fight, and so did Ginny when the war reached Hogwarts and Umbridge took over. But that decision didn't end when the war did. We're both very, very dominant. Ginny and I have very similar personalities, and we just don't work well as a couple. It causes too much fighting because we both want to be in charge, and that isn't an option. We're excellent _friends_," here they clasped hands over the table, "but we couldn't get married. Hell, we can't even be roommates. It would fall apart."

"We've been talking about it for a long, long time." Ginny sat back and fingered her new earrings thoughtfully. "The last nail in the coffin came from the Healers last week. It isn't the main reason we're breaking up, but it is a significant contribution."

"What's that?" Arthur asked miserably. "What could be worse than the rest of it?"

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "The consequence of growing up like I did is stunted development, guys. I'm perfectly formed, but there's a deeper problem. I don't, er…"

"Harry's sterile," Ginny finished kindly for him, because Harry had trouble stating it. He nodded gratefully at her despite the room full of people gaping at him in shock and the creative French profanity coming from Fleur. "We had no idea because he functions just fine, but we hadn't been using contraceptive potions and nothing had been happening. For a whole year, so we both were tested. We thought it might have just been an injury nobody had noticed or a curse or something. It turns out all that time starving and being near chemicals and all that stress and heat… they can't fix it. And before you get mad at me, Harry made the ultimate decision, because he knows I want a big family, and we're both too possessive to have a consort."

Harry swallowed. "We're both alright with adopting, but Ginny wants to have some of her own, too, and I can't do that for her. I understand it. It may not be an option for me, but it is for her. It'd be selfish of me, very selfish, to stay with Ginny knowing that. No matter how many angles we look at this from it just doesn't add up. _We tried._ We did. But it didn't work. That's all."

Ginny and Harry let go of each other's hands. She cleared her throat and stood up, signaling the end of the worst part of the conversation. "The wedding is off. We're sorry. We know you went through a lot of trouble planning it, and the tabloid backfire will be a mess…"

Harry snorted. "Speaking of which, has that Skeeter woman registered yet?"

"No," Hermione said with a slow, wan smile. "No she hasn't."

"Good." Ginny smiled. "Because we're giving an exclusive to her competition and she isn't to print. Anything at all."

"Done," Hermione nodded.

Molly simply couldn't contain herself any longer. She rushed over to hug Ginny, then went to Harry and wouldn't let him go for a while. Not until he comically pretended to choke and flailed at George and Percy for help. It lightened the mood a bit and everyone settled down into a much less dramatic atmosphere for the remainder of dinner.

Finally, after all the stress and explanations and promises to visit when things settled down, it was time to go. Harry paused at the door, unsure of what to do now that they would have to live apart. Who was going home, and who was leaving? Harry would give her the house for certain, any of the ones he owned actually, but he didn't know how she would receive that suggestion-

"You're thinking too much again," Ginny interrupted him. "Go home, get some sleep. I'll stay here, alright? We can talk more… later. After we both feel better."

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, alright."

"And you'd better wait till I get married to give me a bloody house," she snickered. "I know you were thinking about it."

There was an awkward moment when he left. They usually hugged no matter what, even if one of them was storming out angry. It was an unspoken signal to the other that everything would be fine once things cooled down and they could talk again. That didn't happen this time, and Ginny turned away to go upstairs. She did, however, turn again and give him an honest smile.

"Friends, remember? We're still friends. If you find someone soon I get to meet them."

He smiled back at her. "That sounds good. Keep me posted on you as well."

"I will."

When Harry walked out the door, Ron and Hermione slipped out with him. "Stay for a bit, mate. Let's have a drink."

Harry shook his head. "Thanks, Ron. But I'm _tired_. I just want to go home."

"Should we go with you?" Hermione asked. "It'll be fun. We can all get pissed and throw bottles at innocent fire hydrants again."

Harry chuckled, remembering that had happened after a particularly bad fight he and Ginny had gone through. He'd slept at George's for a week, and felt a lot better after their drunken wanderings. The Muggle Police had no idea where they all disappeared to after Harry hung his cloak up in the alley entryway and they got behind it. They could hear them joking about 'magic drunks' for a block as they continued to search and Harry, Ron, Hermione and George tried desperately not to laugh.

"Thanks. Really, I mean it. But I just want to go to sleep. Give me a write and we'll see about next weekend." He turned to apparate, but Hermione grabbed his wrist and hugged him. Harry tensed in her hold when Ron did the same from behind him. "Er... guys?"

"We love you, Mate. You know that, right?" Ron insisted.

"We understand what happened with Ginny, but you know it isn't your fault, don't you?" Hermione smiled.

Harry relaxed a bit and put one hand up behind him on Ron's neck and wrapped the other around Hermione as a way of returning the dual embrace. "Yeah."

"We didn't know things were that bad." Hermione's voice was muffled because her face was buried in his chest. "If Dumbledore had known-"

"I would have stayed there." Harry's voice was hard. "The man was magnificent, but I seem to be the only one that still holds a grudge he orchestrated my death."

Ron's grip tightened. "No, you're not," he hissed.

"Harry..." Hermione sounded pained.

"I know." he insisted. "Everything turned out better than it could have, and Ron's creepy accuracy at divination-"

"I didn't know that 'you're gonna die but you're gonna be happy about it' thing would happen!" Ron defended miserably.

Harry snickered. "It IS odd that all of your predictions happened."

"He was just spouting the first thing that came to mind." Hermione sulked.

"That's kind of how it works." Harry chuckled when she glared up at him. "Alright, I'll stop."

"We're just worried. Gin'll be home, but we're worried about you. Sure you don't need company?" Ron, annoyingly tall, set his chin on Harry's crown. Ron thought this was amusing - Harry just felt short.

"Yes," he reiterated, squirming. "Get off."

"But you're comfortable," Ron teased.

Harry fumed, "I am not!"

"Yes you are," Ginny called from the window upstairs. Several of the family were now watching them from the windows, presumably to make certain Harry wasn't about to fall apart the moment he left.

"Merlin's PANTS! Stop coddling me!" There came the echoes of several voices laughing as Harry began to actively struggle against them.

"Then stay with George," Hermione insisted, grasping tighter.

"For- will you let go if I do?" he growled.

"Must we?"

"YES!"

Snickering, they did so and he stumbled away from them. Ron grinned. "Calm down, Harry. You look like a ruffled cat."

"Though he always does," Hermione pointed out.

"I'm leaving now," Harry snarked at them. "Don't follow me. I'll get there alright."

Ron and Hermione nodded at him. "Just let us know if you need anything at all," Hermione insisted.

Harry paused before he apparated. "I will. Just keep Ginny company, yeah? She's taking this pretty hard. I know she thinks she's being selfish by wanting her own kids. She's not."

"We'll look after Gin, mate. You look after yourself."


	2. History, Old and New

Kain: Thank you. Anyone who has read Suparna knows I have a great respect and admiration for the relationship between Lucius and Narcissa. I can tell it has gone through many stages of development in their time together, perhaps as much so as the relationship Harry and Ginny share, and their love of their son is perhaps the only thing that surpasses this. It is very, very difficult for a writer to get such a good idea as that one and have to abandon it because, quite simply, it doesn't seem rational or possible for such a well-established couple to split. So I had to end it on a "not this one, but maybe another one" note. You're one of the readers that makes posting my moments like Suparna worthwhile, because you know what I was getting at. And you understand the breakup between Harry and Ginny as well as I could convey it. Thank you for reviewing.

Laffy Taffy: Yes, one of the things that has always bothered me about fanfiction is the omission of Harry's childhood influences in the story, as if he spontaneously appeared at eleven and became a wizard, and nothing else mattered. The other most common thing I see is nightmares, and though that is a realistic and common method of bringing the pain to light; it's just getting kind of old. ^_^;;

* * *

Harry hadn't thought about it; he had simply seen Lucius Malfoy out in all his finery in Diagon Alley and his wand had been drawn in an instant. For his part Lucius put up his hands in surrender, though it clearly pained him to do so, and stared levelly at the green eyed man.

The moment was short, but it was enough to tell Harry just how much his mind was still trained on battle. The soft, "Is there a problem, Mr, Potter?" that the blonde uttered made him put his wand away just as quickly as he had drawn it. He hadn't seen the man in over a year and even that simple question made his blood boil.

"I apologize." he had said simply. "Reflexes and all that."

"I understand, of course," Lucius bowed. "Far be it for me to begrudge our savior a bit of a slip."

He did though. People were watching them already, and it grated Harry's nerves.

He hadn't thought he would run into Lucius Malfoy again, _ever_, but it had finally happened. The man should not be free, not after what he had done to everyone; to _Ginny_. But he was… and it was Harry's own childish lack of foresight that had done it.

After the final battle and the subsequent rounding up of Death Eaters, Harry's life had been a chaotic swirling mess of pain and confusion: funerals, memorial services, speeches, school letters begging him to come back to finish his education at the school he had saved, Ministry letters insisting he forego his last year of school and enter the Aurour program without the required marks, friends begging him to stop and _let someone else handle all this shit for a change_, and the trials.

Merlin save him, the _trials_.

Harry had tried to go to every single one that he could manage because he wanted to be able to speak for someone if he knew something by chance, and he wanted to _understand_. There was so much confusion concerning who was a Death Eater, who wasn't, who had attacked, who had been defending themselves, who'd been under Imperius, who had been fighting and who had been running that Harry was completely certain a good third of all those accused of Death Eater activities had been the same as he; on the run with no one to account for what they'd been doing. A simple lack of witnesses had condemned them to face trial. It had been a massive exercise in stupidity and society's panic reflex: "If you can't prove you WEREN'T a Death Eater, then you MUST have been one."

Luckily Harry had stopped that before it got too bad. It was that moment that he realized how much his word held sway over the populace now, and it made him very, very nervous.

The sheer number of Muggle-borns that had secretly been in the Death Eater ranks _astounded_ him. And he was sure they had been. He'd been to the trials, listened to the insane ranting they spouted off, as if they were trying to defend their actions to themselves. As if they hadn't known they were doing something wrong. Or at least, they were too afraid to refuse to cooperate, and had instead trained themselves to blindly believe whatever they heard purely to belong to a group that offered safety in numbers in dangerous times.

But Harry supposed that was how people worked. Nobody wanted to think of themselves this way, but the simple fact of the matter was that human beings are pack animals. They instinctively want to be part of a group, even if they don't believe in what the group is doing. And Death Eaters were still an ordinary cult at its basest components. Their recruiting strategy must have sounded like a breath of fresh air in the earliest stages. People have problems in their lives, they get depressed and desperate for any kind of salvation even if it makes no sense, and the Death Eaters show up with their promises of a better world. People are always prone to wanting to join a group, any group, for security and stability in desperation. And any cult worth mentioning in the Quibbler was very good at targeting people at that crucial moment or causing those conditions that made them happen. The same applied to any religion, social order, sports group, or country. Tell people they'll be part of an established pack, be _important_, and they'll trip trying to scramble after you.

No, Harry didn't believe these people were inherently evil, but he had problems believing that of anyone really. He did not think they should get away with what they had done at all; that was not negotiable. But he really, really wished he could have helped them when they were vulnerable; in the crucial moment before they let go of their sanity and joined something dangerous. No amount of wishing would make that happen, and he eventually wore himself out on it. It was a harsh reality, but one he had been faced with time and time again now. There was simply no way, short of achieving omnipotence and omniscience, that he could help everyone. They would just have to take care of themselves, or each other. And Harry was not a God.

He would have to decide who to help, pick his path, and run.

Harry had flown through his Auror training the summer after the battle with the resolve of a captive dragon bursting out of Gringotts after centuries of being chained to the floor. Everyone agreed he would have made Head Aurour at barely twenty if he'd kept on that path. But there was saving people who weren't yet in danger by insane preparation, and then there was saving people who already were in danger and needed him NOW. That had been the deciding factor in his career.

Using his fame as a catalyst proved useful then. He didn't like being so direct with it, but when he'd quit the Auror program just months into it with top marks he had been certain to point out in his closing speech that he hadn't quit being a hero. Citizens Arrest was still very much a thing, and bounties could always be donated. And the steps for becoming a bounty hunter were pretty much this on a worldwide scale: 1-decide you want to be a bounty hunter, 2- you are now a bounty hunter. There were no real rules, training or certificates in place for it, so no legal blocks existed to stop him. Even the Ministry was impressed to an extent, especially since it meant Harry would still bring in the bad guys on occasion, and they didn't even have to pay him for it if he didn't ask. To date he had tracked down fifty Death Eaters that had been on the run and turned them in. That was half the Ministry's entire total thus far.

Every Knut he'd earned had gone to reparation efforts or to the children's wing in St. Mungoes. Nobody could deny that he was working for the greater good there. No one.

The only way Harry had been able to get through it all sane was to handle each thing individually. He had actually taken that as his sanity mantra and would repeat it to himself as he ran from task to task: one thing at a time, one thing at a time, one thing at a time.

And somehow in the midst of all that, Lucius Malfoy had escaped Azkaban.

It was infuriating, but Harry had to admit that it was entirely his fault.

His 'one thing at a time' mantra had doomed him on that one. Handling each of the events that led up to Lucius's simple house arrest had made sense **separately**, but Harry would have handled it differently if he had realized how they would all come together.

After the Battle of Hogwarts Harry and the rest had more important things to do than turn in the Malfoys, who sat awkwardly in the Great Hall looking so out of place it was almost difficult not to feel sorry for them. The dead needed to be cared for, the living consoled, the castle put to rights and legacies secured. Harry had broken into the Headmaster's office himself after it had been locked (a feat he steadfastly refused to explain to McGonagall, to her chagrin) and put the strongest Permanent Sticking Charm on Snape's portrait that he could possibly manage, even while the grouchy thing sniped at him furiously for touching it and Dumbledore's portrait snickered quietly to himself while he watched.

If the Ministry was going to move that portrait, Harry was damned sure they'd have to replace the entire wall. The spell he had cast was so powerful it actually glowed around the frame despite being a spell that wasn't supposed to be visible, which was fine because Harry knew it would annoy the snarky thing anyway to know that it had a veritable halo. Dumbledore's portrait was probably still teasing him over it. Weeks later he'd gotten a complaint letter from the Ministry -who hadn't exonerated Snape yet- demanding an explanation for his doing so because they wanted the portrait down. At which point Harry sent a lovely and carefully polite letter subtly telling them to kiss his arse. There had been no reply.

Before anyone knew what had happened; the Malfoys had turned themselves in as a show of good faith, and it had worked. Now their story of defecting before the end was credible.

Then Narcissa and Draco had called in their life-debts, both asking him to speak for them at the trials. Harry did so, as asked. He spoke the truth without embellishing or allowing grudges to get in the way. Harry recounted only the facts as he knew them, shared his memories, and submitted to Veritaserum to verify it all. In the intensity of it all he had missed a crucial detail – the sheer number of trials going on had allowed the Ministry to try entire families at once, if there was reasonable proof that they had all been involved in the war. By speaking for Draco and Narcissa, he had unwittingly spoken for Lucius as well. Now they had all gone free, which Harry thought was a bit bonkers after the Patriarch had already been sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban, which he had escaped from.

Then Draco had gone and decided to be all brave on them and go back to finish his last year at Hogwarts. Harry had agreed to go and help look after the returning Slytherins and serve as an example so they wouldn't get mercilessly bullied after McGonagall had pointed out how much danger they would be in. It had worked to an extent, and he and Malfoy had come to a sort of tolerance, even if they hadn't managed friends. Harry had gotten his full education with impressive marks now that he wasn't running around trying to either stay alive or defeat Dark Lords, and was glad for it.

On the other hand, doing that had allowed Lucius to regain his rights as the head of the family, instead of Draco inheriting that title since he was of age. While he was away at school it would have been impossible for Draco to attend to family affairs, so it was returned to Lucius. Now the git was not only relatively free, he was also back in power of all the Malfoy assets. They had probably planned it all exactly that way, too, knowing Harry would respond to one seemingly reasonable request after another and wouldn't see how the puzzle fit until it was too late to disassemble it.

And it was all _Harry's_ fault.

Now after Harry and Ginny had broken up and he had more time to think, he was going over the things he had done, and should have done, and should not have done in their entirety. Eventually he came to a depressing yet satisfactory conclusion: Harry Potter was merely human, and he made mistakes. What he had to do now was accept them, learn from them, and move on.

When everything had finally started to calm down, he and Ginny had picked up where they left off. She had been exceedingly patient with him while he got his life sorted out and tried to sort out everyone else's. She said it hadn't taxed her too much to wait, as she had been doing her own things for the family.

The loss of Fred had devastated the Weasleys so much that they had wasted no time in procreating. Harry suspected it was an unconscious urge to fill that hole in their lives, and they had done so with fervor. This meant Molly and Ginny had a lot of weddings to plan. Ron and Hermione came first, and then George and Angelina, quickly followed by Percy and Audrey, and if things had worked out between them Harry and Ginny would have been next. Their family tree was expanding faster than Fleur's belly. As far as Harry knew there had already been an argument, which George had won, to determine who got to use the name Fred on their first son.

The last wedding was now over. Harry and Ginny had called off theirs, and Percy and Audrey had been sent off on their Honeymoon in Ireland that Harry had insisted on paying for. For the first time in over two years Harry's list of things to do had been whittled down to one final thing, and he had completed it an hour ago; sneak in and paint the nursery in Ron and Hermione's place. Ron had been busy with his Auror work to the point where he hadn't been able at all to get it done, and Hermione was two weeks late and ready to eat him alive if it hadn't gotten done that very night. Harry did it for him, and jokingly lied to Hermione they had done it together. 'Jokingly' because she figured it out within minutes, of course, since the edges were all straight. Fortunately she didn't care so long as it was done, and Ron was still alive and very much not eaten, thank Merlin.

Now Harry was bored.

He had nothing pressing to do. Hell, at the moment he didn't even have a job – couldn't have held one down for all the other things he needed to do, and didn't need to work to support himself anyway.

Eventually he decided to wander around Diagon Alley until he thought of something useful to do with himself, and if he happened upon the sweets shop then so be it.

There, he had run into Malfoy.

The man had just come out of Twilfitt and Tatting's carrying a few bags and a box with a thick wooden handle, while an elf trailed behind him levitating three more large-ish boxes in tasteful shimmery wrapping. Malfoy eyed Harry warily after the wand was put away, though he did not seem willing to risk challenging the 'reflex' excuse.

Surprisingly, he began a tight conversation. "What brings you to Diagon Alley today, Mr. Potter?"

Harry took a slow breath. There was a certain level of 'polite' even Lucius Malfoy was awarded, though it wasn't much if he decided to be obnoxious. "Boredom, mostly." Harry didn't hear Lucius's initial response to that because he was paying too much attention to something else that he considered far more interesting than a rich bigot trying to get face time with him.

Harry looked to the elf and gave him a little smile, which made him gawk and duck his head almost shyly a second later. Harry didn't see any marks or bandages on this one, aside from healed tears on the ears. It would have been hard to see anything under the toga-like blue tablecloth he was wearing, though, so he couldn't be sure the elf was completely unharmed. It was oddly clean, likely because he was out of the Manor. The elf was young or at least not old enough to show wrinkles. Harry honestly had trouble gaging the ages of house elves. Much like Snape, who had died before his forties yet looked far older, high levels of constant stress made house elves deteriorate rapidly. He resembled Dobby in the eyes, which were not green but bright amber instead, though they had the same shape and ridiculous size as all House-Elves did.

Hermione had gotten quite far in the Guidelines on House Elf Welfare, though that wasn't saying much since there had been absolutely no enforcement in place before that. Harry knew them all by heart now and these simple, easy rules had so vastly improved the lives of these poor creatures that Harry couldn't believe they hadn't been followed before. The elves did most of the work anyhow. It pained him to know these guidelines had existed for so long before anyone bothered to tell the elves they existed, which was apparently the main problem: the Ministry had a habit of passing laws concerning Beings and Creatures without informing them of it.

Elves were allowed to walk in public without being accompanied by their Masters if given permission to do so, which allowed them some freedom in terms of obtaining things they needed for themselves. They had to be provided enough food and water to keep them comfortable, not simply enough to keep them alive. They had the right to clean coverings and bedding even if they weren't actual clothes or blankets, meaning their Masters weren't allowed to order them not to clean whatever they wrapped themselves in. These coverings also had to suit the weather, and heavier things must be provided them in the winter to shield them from the cold.

An Elf could not be killed without a fair trial such as any a Witch or Wizard might receive, so there would be no more awful traditions such as the Black Family's mounting the heads of their executed elves on the walls. Harry had properly buried every mounted head that had been in the Black House long ago, in graves marked with the names that had been on their plaques, and Kreacher had wailed his thanks plaintively at his mother being given a proper resting place. New additions that Hermione was particularly proud of were the right to breed without their Master's express permission, and the right to keep their children until they came of age at twenty years old or so. They and their children would still belong to their Masters, but the families could not be separated unwillingly. It wasn't much to Hermione and she sincerely wanted to do more than that, but to the elves Harry supposed it was the world to them.

Yes, it was true that most of them wanted to be slaves, and they took pride in their families. But that didn't mean they had no rights as Beings. If the elves felt they were being abused or these guidelines weren't being met, each and every one of them had the right to come to the Ministry and report it, and ask for reassignment to another family through the Office for House-Elf Relocation.

This was something that the Pure-Blood lines hadn't seen coming: their servants now had the right to leave them. They wanted to belong to someone, to be sure, but they got to choose who, and after discovering their Masters had no right to take their children away from them yet had anyway because the elves _hadn't known_ they could not? Payback had been massive. Harry imagined there were quite a large number of families that had been left to clean their own houses, make their own food, and do their own shopping who had absolutely no idea how to do it all. As a result families like the Weasleys and their kin now had elves knocking and begging for work.

But it seemed that the Malfoys had adapted, at least enough to keep their elves from fleeing.

"I see," Lucius nodded. He motioned behind him to the elf, who took the bags his Master was carrying obediently and disapperated with the purchases with a loud snap. Harry couldn't be certain if Lucius was only being relatively civil to the elf because they were in public, or in front of Harry, or because this one was highly skilled and therefore valued. "As you are unoccupied, may I respectfully offer my condolences on the dissolution of your engagement to Miss Weasley by offering a drink or two?"

There were people watching them. Of course there were. Harry inwardly started snarling at Malfoy for using him as a publicity stunt and mentioning a matter that was none of his damned business. Now that they'd had a civil conversation in public, or so it seemed, Malfoy was sure to climb a few more steps in the social ladder. Harry wanted to tell the waspy old git to go stuff himself, but that would make him look like an arse in the public eye being rude to a man he'd just drawn his wand on without provocation. It would bring bad press to an already hectic situation after calling off the wedding and the Weasleys would likely suffer for it.

"If you must," Harry conceded lightly.

Resigned to an irritating evening, Harry allowed Lucius to lead him to the pub. He was damn well going to check his drinks for unwanted additives before touching them.


	3. Fireworks

I know this is shorter than my usual chapters, but I thought the time I took to concentrate on their interaction was worth it. ^_^

* * *

The moment they had placed their drink orders and the barmaid walked away, Harry smirked at Lucius. "Mrs. Malfoy made you do this, didn't she?"

"Correct," the man said evenly. "She is under the impression we ought to be more actively grateful for your part in Draco's continued existence."

"She has a point," Harry snorted lightly. "And how is it you just happened to find me in Diagon Alley? There is no way I'm going to sit here and think that was a coincidence."

Lucius deliberately avoided looking at the barmaid as she delivered their drinks and took a sip of his annoyingly complicated order before answering. "We were advised by a seer to be there today so that we could run into you," he conceded. "Narcissa was delayed in meeting me, or she would be here to mediate for us. Unfortunately she is otherwise occupied and has left the matter to me alone."

"Kind of like how she made you go to the tailor's to pick up her underwear." Harry lifted his butterbeer, ignoring the scowl, and shrugged. "We seem to be doing alright. The pub is still in one piece, at least."

"Thus far, yes," Lucius allowed sharply. "And she does not _make_ me retrieve her lingerie. It spends more time in my hands than hers anyway."

"Touché. So?" Harry asked. "What do you want? I doubt this was only about a few drinks."

The blonde let his goblet hover near his lips a bit longer than was necessary to put off his answer. Then he set it down and seemed to steel himself. "My wife is concerned for you," he admitted slowly. "She requests to know the reason for the severance of your engagement to Ginevra Weasley, for the purpose of assisting you in any way she can; whether that be by aiding its reinstatement or your recovery. She had suggested many methods of doing these, though she would greatly appreciate your input on which you would prefer."

Harry was surprised and slightly grateful for her concern, though wary. Yes, Narcissa had lied for him. Yes, Harry had saved her son's life on multiple occasions and she had every right to have grown somewhat fond of him as a result. But she was still a Malfoy, and as a general rule Harry didn't trust them. This feeling was only enhanced by Ginny's involvement in the equation, since the two families had been feuding for as long as anyone could remember.

"She couldn't have written a letter?" he asked incredulously.

Lucius sneered at him. "This is a delicate matter of great personal importance, Potter. A letter would have been decidedly discourteous; or do you not know that? One would think our _celebrated hero_ would have a better sense of propriety."

"Shove off," Harry drawled, bored. Despite his sour mood, Mr. Malfoy's jabs were only managing to weary him. Comparatively, Mrs. Malfoy's interest in his wellbeing was causing him some concern. He wasn't certain if he should believe her, but he didn't want to turn away someone legitimately trying to begin friendly relations. It was a risk either way he played this. "Even if I were willing to tell your wife about my personal matters, I wouldn't want to relay it through you. It'd be like playing telephone. You wouldn't get the message right for it being peppered with your own opinions."

Lucius raised a brow. "That ridiculous Muggle thing that one must yell through to be heard?"

Harry palmed his face. "One; I've already had to explain to somebody that yelling isn't needed to make it work. You just talk normally in it. Second; how do you even know what a telephone is?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "The Malfoys do not isolate themselves, Mr. Potter, to the Wizarding World alone. If nothing else doing business with Muggles is profitable."

"Fair business?" Harry asked in a hiss.

"It's business, Mr. Potter. No matter the world, when has it ever been fair?" The cool response was accompanied by a smirk and a sideways glance at the barmaid. He tipped his hand at her to order another drink and, when she came to ask if he would like the same one, he sniped at her. The man was only halfway through his first and already seemed to believe he would need another to get through this conversation.

Harry scowled, thinking that might be a good idea, but he sure as hell wasn't letting the slippery git pay for his drinks anymore. It wasn't as if Harry needed the gesture, and refusing it would probably annoy the bastard and insult his sense of propriety. Besides, he was the kind of bastard that mistreated the waitress and that was not on. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It does seem in your nature to be unfair to everyone in general, Lucius."

The unauthorized use of the man's given name earned Harry a deep scowl, and it made him smile in return. This was actually starting to get fun, he thought. It would be an excellent story to tell Arthur and the rest of his family if Harry managed to frustrate their rival family's patriarch into a full retreat without even achieving the goal he'd been sent for.

"We are getting off subject," Lucius snapped. "Out of respect for Narcissa's concern, I would prefer that you pay attention to the matter at hand and antagonize me at a later date."

Damn.

"You must have read the papers, Mr. Malfoy." Harry sat back and crossed his arms. "They contain everything Ginny and I wished to say on the whole thing."

The man sneered at him. "Does the woman that you owe a life debt to garner no more regard than the pitiful explanation you have provided the general public? You insult the risk she took for you."

"I don't," Harry snapped. "Listen, as you said before, this is a personal matter. I haven't even told a lot of my friends, okay? It isn't that I don't trust her knowing." Not completely anyway, he thought. "It's that I'm just not ready to talk about it except to those who already know. Ginny and I are still friends, so I don't know why this is such a big deal-"

"So there **is** a problem." Lucius stated with interest. "If there were not a deeper issue then most friends, as you say, would be able to make a marriage work with time. What is it that cannot be worked through with time?"

Harry flinched. "Damn it, Malfoy. Will you go away and annoy someone else if I duel you for it?"

Lucius gave him a slow smirk. "I am not allowed to carry a wand, Mr. Potter, until the end of my five year probation. One might think you are trying to get me into trouble."

"No, I'd just forgotten," Harry admitted. "It isn't as if that's going to take you long, though."

The blonde's eyes went dark. "I have every intention of fulfilling my probation and remaining with my family for the rest of my days. I will not risk losing them again because of a simple matter of pride. Search me if you must, Potter, but you will find no wand."

Harry blinked. The suggestion of breaking his probation offended him? "Wow. I hadn't expected that. Congratulations on fixing your priorities, then."

It looked as if Lucius was about to open up another tirade, but it seemed to the owner that they might begin to battle, and feared for his building. The barmaid approached with the bill and Harry put up his hand before Lucius could snag it. "I'll take that," he said firmly.

Lucius's look of offence was absolutely hilarious. "Mr. Potter, we had agreed I would be responsible for the remuneration of this meeting."

"Merlin, do any of you speak normally?" Harry rolled his eyes. "_I've got it_, okay?"

The barmaid looked between them as if this was terribly entertaining. Clearly she was weighing her options. Her eyes volleyed between them like she was watching a ping-pong match.

Lucius braced both hands on the table, as if to stand. "Mr. Potter, we _agreed_-"

"Implied," Harry corrected, "but that was before you spent the whole time being a berk. If I was going to let people pay to insult me I'd have made it a career by now."

"You are being terribly rude," the blonde informed him acidly.

Harry smiled innocently at him. "I know."

Lucius snorted and looked to the barmaid. "I have far more gold than he does," he reasoned to her.

"Yes, but _I'll_ tip you," Harry stated sweetly.

"And we have a winner," the barmaid said as she handed the check to Harry. He triumphantly lay the required coins and a few more on the table for her, giving a large tip because of her brilliant quip. Saucy waitresses were fun as hell and he liked to encourage them, even if they did toss him out when he and Ron got too far gone. Harry was familiar with this one. She was a squib that worked here because she didn't get on well in the Muggle world, but could grab Harry by his collar and kick his arse out the door faster than Snape after a detention. He thought she was dating a vampire, but he wasn't certain.

Lucius scowled furiously at her back as she sauntered away. "Normally the help has more respect-"

"Respect and fear aren't the same thing, Malfoy," Harry said as he stood and prepared to leave. "I'd have thought Voldemort taught you that. If you so much as pester that waitress I will find out about it."

After the initial shock of the name had worn off, Lucius put his chin in his hands and feigned interest. "Your eyes glow when you're angry, Potter," he said significantly. "Did you know?"

Somehow that one got to him. Harry turned and intended to swear at him for pointing out a stupid similarity between Harry and his old master, but slipped in his anger. Instead of the profane comeback that Harry had meant to fling at the man, a string of Parseltongue escaped. Harry couldn't have repeated it in English because the words didn't exist, but it was meaner than he'd intended. Most everyone in the bar had turned to stare at him as the last echoes of his hissing, and Malfoy looked pale. Well… pal_er_.

"Er… sorry," he said, pretending to look sheepish about it. "Drink got to me. Slip of the tongue?"

His joke made a few people smile and go back to their drinks. The rest shook their heads in amusement and watched him leave. There were benefits to martyring yourself, and one was that you could have the same qualities of generally bad people and get away with it. Everyone already knew he was a Parselmouth anyway and his excuse was believable. They wouldn't be able to tell he was angry unless they were accustomed to what that particular language sounded like in a normal tone.

At least he'd managed to scare Malfoy.

"Thank Narcissa for her concern; I appreciate it," Harry said as politely as he could now that so many people were watching them. ", though I'd prefer she send a different representative next time."

Harry smiled as he heard soft French mutterings from behind him when he left. He was seriously considering adding "Regularly Annoy Lucius Malfoy" to his list of things to do. It would never end, if Harry got his way.


	4. Playing With Fire

The real title of this story is: "Harry Potter and the Effects of Inattentional Blindness". However, it exceeds the maximum character limitations, so I have shortened it to the title listed. Sorry about that.

Kain: Lucius was referencing the fact that the debt had existed at all, not that it had yet to be paid. The debts in the Room of Requirement are due to Harry's order to turn around, so the debt Draco owes would belong to him exclusively since Harry was the one who both ordered the save and grabbed him.

BAFan: Thank you so much for trying again! I like the comments. They encourage me to continue despite sleep deprivation and a baby screaming at me for no readily apparent reason.

Twist: Thank you very much. I had to include some consequences of his childhood, because it always felt it was odd how even J.K. Rowling didn't quite have too many effects of his horrible childhood in the story. I had a great childhood, but I didn't have a father (at least none worth speaking of) and I didn't realize how much it had affected me until I had to interact with my father-in-law. The differences may seem subtle to the person suffering them, but to everyone else it could seem like a lot.

Thanks very much for all the comments and messages congratulating me on breaking up Harry and Ginny without first heaping on a bunch of childish bullshit. I will strive for adult breakups in all of my stories, because I'm... well, an adult.

The model of Malfoy Manor I have decided on is in my blog: Coffee and catastrophy . blogspot . com (fill in blanks since doesn't like links)- Hope you all like it.

* * *

"Deletrius!"

Lucius barely managed to dodge enough to preserve his life. The spell grazed his left hand and the tang of blood filled his nostrils as the gaping wound caused by disintegrating skin poured out onto the alley floor. Instinctively, he reached for a wand that was not there as he ran. It had been a stupid reflex he should really have trained himself out of by now, as it had cost him valuable time in pressing his cloak to the wound to stem the bleeding. As he did so he could feel the bones of his hand and grit his teeth. The healers would have a lot of trouble healing this one, if he managed to get that far.

Lucius continued to run as his pursuers' footsteps echoed behind him. There were two, maybe three if one was silent enough to disguise himself in the echoes. Wandless and helpless, Lucius had no choice but to run. He had been foolish, he now knew, to travel without his House Elf. When Potter had been with him Lucius felt confident enough that the brat would keep his usual attackers at bay without the Elf his son insisted he bring with him at all times as a guard. That evening of being without his diminutive bodyguard had made him haughty and he had left alone to go on his errands today.

That had clearly been a mistake. Now he found himself with no recourse but to flee and duck to avoid the curses, hexes and jinxes launched his way.

Much as Lucius hated to admit it, he now knew that a House Elf was a powerful creature. During the time that his home had been host to throngs of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, the elves had taken to silently defending their masters. Despite the horrid way the family had treated them through the years, the way their masters thought of them, and above all else the fact that they had severely punished themselves afterward, all three Malfoys had found their rooms powerfully warded. The elves had gone out of their way to ensure that Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco had safe places to sleep, healing when they needed it, food when they were too stressed or too busy to remember it, and sometimes merely the company of another living thing as they rested with an elf or two standing by the door to help them sleep. Lucius owed his elves a great deal, and when Granger's laws had begun to come to fore the Malfoys had been one of the few families embroiled in Death Eater activities to retain their elves.

Because no matter the suffering they had endured, the Malfoys had apologized and promised to do better by their servants. They had learned the hard way that their elves were valuable, if only because of their loyalty, and were not merely beasts of burden as they had been raised to believe. There was no choice but to accept reality after experiencing it firsthand – House Elves were Beings, not Creatures. They had kept their word. Most of this was accomplished by Narcissa, and a fair amount by Draco. Lucius himself had not done much besides reading aloud the newly enforced laws that the elves had not known of so that they would know their rights. It was not much, but it had earned him a loyal guard in Zither, the elf he had with him when he'd met Potter.

Now that they knew how very powerful House Elves could be when needed, Lucius had been begged by his wife and son to endure the constant presence of Zither if he ever left the Manor grounds. If nothing else a quick shield charm and apparition would keep him safe, and the elf certainly knew how to fight if needed.

And now Lucius had gone and left his guard at home.

As he rounded a corner he knocked down a display of crystals, hoping that his pursuers would either skewer their feet on the spears or trip and slip over the spheres. The shop parrot began screaming his name, clearly having been put there to identify thieves. He didn't pay the thing any mind; he could pay for the crystals later and the shopkeeper would be appeased. Just now he needed to get to safety, and the Apothecary he had helped fund was mere blocks away. The owner, Deidre, was his best chance of a sanctuary until the Aurors arrived to investigate the chase. His hope of that helping was short-lived, however, as he passed a few stray cats in the alley and the attackers used the opportunity wisely.

"Oppugno!" one shouted. Though Lucius had lost them for a moment due to the toppled crystals, the cats slowed him down. They clawed and bit at him, climbing atop his back and leaving long, jagged scratches and bites everywhere they could reach. Hoping they weren't rabid was the only thing Lucius could do aside from grabbing them anywhere he could reach and flinging them away from him as best he could.

By the time Lucius had gotten them off of him the pursuers had caught up with him. His head exploded with pain and he fell when one of the crystal balls was thrown and caught him on the left side of his forehead. When he hit the ground he was dimly aware of two people flanking him and a third standing near his shoulders. A boot planted firmly in his back.

"Defector." A deep, obviously disguised voice spat at him.

Lucius knew better than to argue at the moment. He lie still and pretended to be dazed, waiting for the right moment to act. This moment came not long after in the form of an attacker lowering their wand a bit too far to cast something horrible on Lucius.

Lucius snatched it. "Periculum!"

The red sparks shot out high and fast, surely alerting everyone in Diagon Alley at this late hour to his distress in Knockturn. The attackers fled when shouts and footsteps headed their way, and Lucius soon found himself surrounded by well-meaning witches and wizards who nonetheless seemed certain he had played a part in the attack, if only by goading his attackers.

When the Aurors arrived to take him in for questioning, Lucius began to get the sinking feeling he should not have snatched that wand, even in the act of defense of his life. Surely there would be no question that he had broken his probation, however unavoidable it had been. His family might have had an easier time dealing with his death than living the rest of their lives knowing he waited for it in a small, cold cell.

* * *

"Boo!" Harry said playfully when he pulled the menu away from his face.

The infant he was playing with squealed loudly at him, which made a good portion of the patrons turn and smile, and flailed her chubby little hands to try and reach his glasses to snatch them away for the fifth time. She seemed to think they were utterly fascinating, but every time she got them she would only stare at his eyes. He was beginning to think she just wanted them off.

The problem was he couldn't see her then. And he wanted to see, because he had already noticed things her mother had not. Like the way she stared at his eyes like she knew something about them, or the way things seemed to get into her hands when they weren't actually within her reach, and how the shade of her purple rattle had changed to a darker color and back three times since he'd arrived.

If this child didn't get a Hogwarts letter he'd eat his tie, which meant he and Audrey were going to be much more open with each other later on. She'd need his help getting her school things together if nothing else. Not many organizations existed even now to help Muggle-born PARENTS deal with the strange new world their children would be living in; instead it was merely a board post at Hogwarts asking Wizarding parents to volunteer their time. Not many people answered the posts because they were too busy getting their own children ready to help anyone else.

That wasn't why he played with her of course; the fact that she was a bit witchy was just a coincidence.

"No, no. You can't have my glasses, baby-doll," he smiled. "But you can have this. It makes noise, see?" He shook the rattle a few times to get her attention with it, and her entire focus was suddenly latched onto the toy like nothing else of interest existed. With an insistent, "AH!' she snatched it away from him and stuck it in her mouth. She was teething, so he winced when he heard the scratching of sharp little teeth on the surface. He made a mental note not to let her get hold of his fingers. It was something he'd overheard Mrs. Weasley telling Fleur that he'd made a point to remember: Babies bite. Hard.

"You look a little young to be a father," her mother, Audrey, said with a smile. "How many do you have?"

Harry smiled sadly at her. "Oh. None, er… I'm just waiting for the right match to come along. I haven't been having much luck with that."

He had been playing with the baby at the table behind him in the Muggle coffee shop he frequented for a good fifteen minutes or so, to give her mother a chance to eat. They were both regulars and knew each other pretty well by now, but Audrey hadn't asked him if he had any kids yet.

"Really? You're so good with them. Do you babysit?"

He smiled at her, recognizing she could tell he didn't want to talk about his relationship troubles. "Well, I will be soon enough. A lot of my friends just got married this year; most all of them, in fact. We'll be knee-deep in rug rats inside five years. I wouldn't be surprised if I get to borrow a few of them now and then."

"Bella would appreciate the company if you ever have an evening free, Harry."

"I'd like that, thank you," he nodded, inwardly cringing. Harry liked Audrey, but of all the names she picked for this angel she had to use Bella. His only consolation was that the full name was Belladonna, not Bellatrix. None the less he steadfastly refused to use it and instead use nicknames like baby-doll and bee-bee (because she had been wearing overalls with bumble bees on them when they met). Luckily his friend hadn't noticed yet, or hadn't said anything about it.

As they talked, Harry suddenly found himself looking at a letter that an owl had dropped in front of him. It was a bright yellow with an orange seal, with his name delicately gracing the front in lovely calligraphy, along with the thickly lettered words **PLEASE HELP**. The wax of the seal contained gold flecks, he could tell even from this distance, and he already knew it wasn't from the Ministry. Those urgent letters were red, like Howlers, and demanded immediate attention by vibrating on the table once they were dropped. This… was likely from a friend. Or at least from someone that considered Harry their friend, or thought he was theirs. He didn't recognize the writing, but it bore a strong resemblance to Draco Malfoy's intricate cursive when he was trying to write neatly, the way he had been taught at home.

Narcissa, perhaps? The woman was clearly meddling in his life, though even when he had analyzed the situation Harry had trouble thinking she had any ill intentions. It was the same way Molly Weasley behaved when she thought he needed help with anything from eating enough to winning a war – she was going to do it whether he liked it or not. He was beginning to think it was simply a psychological thing that appeared after a woman reproduced. Harry seriously thought he should begin calling it the 'Mum Reflex'.

Audrey looked oddly at the letter, and Harry realized she had clearly not seen the owl, or seen it drop. Belladonna on the other hand, was screaming and flailing her arms in the direction the owl had got to, as well as a cloaked woman in purple outside. There were obviously spells on both to prevent Muggles from noticing their presence, powerful ones, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what was so important.

"Excuse me, it seems I have to go." He stood and bowed his head lightly to Audrey, who pouted at him.

"Why? We just got finished eating. I wanted to talk a while."

Harry shook his head. "I know, but I've just found this in my pocket. A friend gave it to me this morning, and I'm afraid I didn't actually look at it until just now." He held the letter aloft and she frowned.

"That looks important. Why didn't she just call your cell?" she asked in bewilderment.

Harry only took a moment to think of an excuse for that. "She lives in a rural area, and doesn't have a telephone. Never did like them."

"Well, I won't keep you," Audrey said pleasantly. "Let me know if I can help her out too, ok? Sometimes you just need some girl time to talk about things, and as useful as you are…"

Harry laughed. "I know. Girl time doesn't apply to me. Later, Audrey. Bye, Bee-Bee."

The baby waved at him and threw a fit as he walked away. Harry smiled and shook his head at that. He hadn't known her long, and already he was on a level of familiarity that justified hissy fits when he left. It was encouraging to know somebody's kid liked him that much, even if he didn't have his own.

Once he turned into a nearby alley, he put on his cloak and apparated home.

The letter had begun buzzing insistently in his hand, and he gripped it tightly as he entered the Black home. He opened it immediately upon the door closing behind him, and grit his teeth as he read.

_'Mr. Harry James Potter,'_ it began, clearly trying to butter him up by citing his father's name within his own.

_'Last night at just past ten in the evening, my husband was brutally attacked by three loyalist Death Eaters that have yet to be identified. During this attack he was forced to take one of the attacker's wands and cast __Periculum __to summon assistance.'_

Makes sense, Harry thought to himself. He still didn't see what he was to do about it, if the attack was past.

_'Upon willingly remaining at the scene to report the attack and submit to the Aurors what had occurred, Lucius was taken into custody under the pretext of breaking his probation by using a wand to cause harm to another.'_

Harry blinked. What the hell?

_'It has been assumed,'_ the letter seemed to inherit a legitimate Malfoy drawl at this point despite not actually speaking aloud_, 'that Lucius instigated the attack by challenging his aggressors. I know this to be untrue. Lucius swore to both me and our son that he would hold to the letter of his probation to the best of his ability so that he could remain home where he belongs.'_

Harry had quite a few thoughts of his own on where Lucius Malfoy belonged, but it wasn't in the least polite after the Ministry had decided. Still, this seemed decidedly unfair. It felt a lot like the hearing Harry had gone through after saving Dudley from the Dementors that had been moved at the last minute in the hopes that he wouldn't show up and forfeit his right to contest expulsion from school. It smelled very strongly of bull shit.

He essentially ignored the rest of the letter and groaned to himself. He hastily scrawled an agreement to meet with her on the back of the parchment and sent it back with the owl.

Oh well, he thought to himself. At least the rest of his week wouldn't be boring.


	5. Vows and Virtues

BAFan: Sorry about the confusion. Audrey is the name of Harry's Muggle friend. They just meet in the coffee place from time to time, because Harry likes playing with her baby. That woman and Percy's wife are two separate people, who just happen to have the same name.

Doctor Whiteface: A detailed critique would be welcome. I love constructive criticism. If I can improve, let me know.

Faery66: I made this chapter longer than usual so you'd have more to read. ^_^

Phantom Feline: You'll just have to wait and see! I promise, this is all planned out and you'll have that moment where everything falls into place and you think, "OH! That's where this was headed!"

A few hours later Harry, Hermione and Ron arrived at the manor. After Mrs. Malfoy had sent him a variety of times for them to meet, Harry had replied with a specific time and told her he would be bringing his friends. He had not left it open for discussion and she had not contested it.

Draco had been sick recently, or still was. Harry could clearly see that as they entered the Manor. Instead of being welcomed in by Narcissa herself or an elf, Harry and his two friends had been met at the door by Draco. It was probably a formality thing, to be welcomed by a member of the family rather than a servant. His face was pallid and thin and his eyes hollow and upset despite the obvious care he had taken to prepare for this meeting. It seemed that he considered this visit an important one as he had dressed formally and bowed a bit as he held open the door for them.

"Mother will be seeing you in the library on the top floor. If you will follow me, please, I'll take you to her." Draco led them through the hall and into a smaller corridor toward the stairway. As Ron and Hermione were accompanying him per Harry's request, Draco avoided the Drawing Room completely.

As they took the stairs Draco was silent, as well as Ron and Hermione. They'd had Narcissa's promise that her son wouldn't cause them any trouble, as well as Ron and Hermione swearing to Harry that they wouldn't pick fights or interfere with Harry and Narcissa's conversation unless absolutely necessary. Harry took the chance to look at all the portraits on the walls while they stepped up two flights. He had never been this far into the Manor before. Like the hedges out front, the gate and everything else about the place – the stairway was massive. And if Harry's guess was right, this wasn't even the main stairway, since it went up a side of the house.

The portraits were mostly yellow-haired and delicate framed witches and wizards that sneered at him, though politely held their tongues for the three guests. Among them were those that had married into the family, at least those that the Malfoys would admit to. Many were clearly half-blood offspring of pure-blood parentage willing to choose love over logic, or at least submit to an arrangement their parents had set up, and they smiled at the three guests as they passed. Harry saw within them a myriad of hair and eye colors from the very dark to the very fair, and they provided a welcome change from the fey-like born Malfoy kin along the walls. It made Harry wonder if the Malfoys had a Curse or a Jinx on them that ensured only certain traits would be passed on, since the born Malfoys all seemed to look the same even when one parent was of an obviously different ethnicity. There were people in these portraits of Romani, African, Greek, and Asian descent, yet their children only resembled the fair Malfoy parent in appearance.

When they reached the middle of the last staircase Harry failed to suppress a laugh when a portrait of Draco at twelve blew a raspberry at him as they passed, and the Draco leading them cleared his throat and glared at the unruly thing before they continued. As they rose through the floors of the house Harry noticed that each one was taller than the last, likely to indicate the general importance of the people residing on each floor. The higher they climbed, the more tired their guide began to look and a slight sheen of sweat appeared on his brow and neck.

"Are you well?" Hermione asked.

Draco paused and gave her a petulant look. "I'll thank you not to feign friendly conversation, Miss Granger. I know you don't really care."

"Since when do you call her _Miss_?" Ron sniffed. "She does, actually. You don't have to like someone to worry for them you know. And she's right- you look like shite. Just tell her if you're dying or not and we'll continue on, yeah? Trust me; she'll pester you until you tell her, and if you don't she'll ask your Mum."

"I'm not _that_ bad," Hermione snapped.

"Yes you are," Ron and Harry drawled in unison. She flushed hotly and shook her head, looking to the blonde expectantly.

Draco sniffed as if something nasty was in his vicinity. "If you _must _know," he started tightly, "I have been ill of late. The worst of it is past and I'll recover shortly. May we continue?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "Thank you."

Ron chuckled at him. "Almost looks like trying to be nice to us is physically hurting you, Malfoy."

Draco turned his back on them and continued, refusing to answer that. Harry gave Ron a warning look that utterly failed to have any effect. Hermione did it for him. That one worked.

Once they reached the top of the stairs they beheld a ludicrously large Long Gallery. It was full of portraits, tapestries, ornate plaster work over the two huge fireplaces, complicated carpets (one of which was hovering an inch or so above the floor as if it would fly away at any moment), and antique furniture the likes of which Harry had not seen outside of Hogwarts itself. It was all very impressive. It was also very intimidating, and Harry found himself bracing against it. If you turned the Burrow on its side and lay it in here, it would fit. If the Malfoys were hoping to gain his assistance then trying to influence him with grandeur was a bad idea.

As if sensing Harry's impression, or noticing that Ron was looking uncomfortable too, Hermione muttered, "Maybe this is the only path to the Library."

"You are correct, Miss Granger; unless, of course, you'd all like to go through the spider-infested secret passageways in the walls?" Draco looked back only enough to see Ron predictably pale.

Harry snorted. "If you had secret passageways leading to the library you wouldn't tell us about it, and they wouldn't be spider-infested in this house unless you'd deliberately put them there to discourage using them," he reasoned.

"Very good, Potter; unless I'm telling you about things that exist because I know you'd expect me to lie." The blonde smirked back at him.

Ron rubbed his forehead. "So you're telling us the truth because you know we won't believe you since you were the one who said it?"

Draco shrugged. "Who knows? I might be. Or perhaps I'm not."

Hermione groaned. "Oh, stop it. How old are we, again?" she asked Harry.

"…old enough not to have these conversations without drinking ourselves silly first?" he hazarded hopefully.

"Exactly."

They all turned to see Narcissa Malfoy standing in the Library doorway waiting for them. Harry noted with no small amount of satisfaction that in the time since he had seen her last at the trials he had grown taller and she no longer made him feel like a child as she was now only up to his shoulder. She had her long blonde hair down and curled loosely so that it flowed down her back in curtains and framed her slender form. She donned a lavender dress and long purple velvet coat suitable for a ball that was simply designed without eccentricities that would distract from her natural beauty. Like her son, though, she looked paler than was healthy even for someone of her delicate complexion, and her blue eyes were dulled with upset.

"Was there a delay, Draco, or has this bickering been going on since the moment you opened the door?" she asked in a pleasant tone that precisely offset the annoyance in her actual words.

Draco bowed to her slightly. "I apologize, Mother. Mr. Potter was distracted by the family portraits in the eastern stairwell. I slowed our pace to give him time to examine them."

Harry flushed a bit. "Did I really slow us down? Sorry. I was only curious."

"There is no need to be sorry, Mr. Potter. Your interest in our family is an honor." Narcissa stood back and beckoned for them to enter the library. Once Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone in, she stood back in the doorway to block her son's entry.

"Mother-" he began.

"Draco. Please take another Calming Drought and lie down," she said sweetly. "I am more than capable of handling this situation, and I would be better able to concentrate on it if I knew you were resting."

Draco looked as if he wanted to argue, but she must have given him a look because he swallowed and left. Narcissa turned and waved her hand as she came into the library and the doors shut behind her, obscuring the Long Gallery. There were several sitting areas inside the sprawling library designated by individual plush carpets and chairs sitting facing one another around low tables or globes of the moon and night sky which were always accurate per the season and cycle. The second floor of the library was a balcony that went around the entire middle of the room to allow walking paths to the upper shelves, and it all resembled the interior of a palace more than a simple manor house. On either side of the room there were doors on the second floor that Harry assumed led out onto the rooftops, if he was remembering the layout of the house correctly from the outside.

Narcissa gestured to one sitting area in particular which featured the twinkling, slowly turning globe of the night sky and they all sat. Instantly an elf appeared and transfigured the globe into a table in which the top was the same spectacular design of the globe. She looked as well kept as the elf Harry had seen with Lucius in Diagon Alley. She had sharp features and a thin, bony body, and eyes the color of mahogany. As a stark contrast to the rest of her thin frame, her belly protruded quite obviously under the clean silk pillowcase she wore.

Hermione was instantly in love. "Hello," she said pleasantly. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Hermione Granger. Would you mind telling me yours?"

The elf gave her a terrified look and glanced to Narcissa for guidance. Surprisingly, the blonde woman nodded encouragingly at her. The elf drew herself up a little and twisted her ears in her hands as she spoke. "Zither, Miss Granger."

"When is the baby due?" Hermione had gotten out of her chair at this point to speak on level with the elf, who was looking increasingly nervous about it.

"I is not sure, Miss. House-Elves let these things happen when they is to happen, and don't worry about weeks and months. It comes when it comes. Not long now, I thinks. Soon."

"If you don't mind me asking, are you eating well? Besides the obvious you look a bit thin." Hermione was speaking gently, but the elf winced and stepped back.

Narcissa answered for her. "No, she isn't, Miss Granger. If you could convince her otherwise, we would be grateful. Zither is one of our best, and her self-destructive behavior is beginning to affect her health."

"What is upsetting you so much that you aren't eating?" Hermione asked, completely ignoring Narcissa and speaking directly to the elf. Ron had to fight to suppress a smile – Hermione would ignore a witch over an elf, if she liked the elf more. Harry thought it was rather rude because Narcissa was clearly trying to be helpful and polite about it.

Zither looked again at Narcissa, desperate for guidance. Narcissa gave her none. "M-miss, I has chores to do… may I go?"

"You don't want to tell me?" Hermione asked.

Zither swallowed. "If you wish to know I is telling you. Do you wish to know?"

Hermione sighed. "Only if you want to tell me; if not, you can go back to work, but try not to overdo it in your condition, alright?"

Zither bowed quickly and popped out of sight. Hermione stood and looked to Narcissa coldly. "Why isn't she eating, and why aren't you making her?"

There was a pause. Harry thought he could almost hear the woman counting slowly to ten in her head. "As I said, her behavior is self-destructive. I don't know what is causing her to punish herself in this way, as she has done nothing worthy of it as far as I know. As for 'making' her eat, I thought we weren't to command the elves on their own upkeep. Either I can command her to eat or not to eat, or I can't. You will have to make up your mind, Miss Granger. Yes, it would help her to be able to order that, but it would be a breach of the laws you now enforce. I would _like_ her to eat, but I cannot _make_ her."

Hermione flushed. "But why don't you send her to the Ministry for counseling?"

"She didn't want to tell you, 'Mione," Ron said. "Why would she want to tell someone at the Ministry? No fair asking Mrs. Malfoy about it when Zither isn't here. That's like asking Harry why I'm mad, but not me."

"Yes, but… oh, you're right. I just wish I could help her." Hermione sat down looking a bit defeated. "Harry said you've been treating the elves in the Manor loads better and I believe him, but seeing Zither set me off. I've seen far too many elves abused in the Ministry recently."

"I have already said," Narcissa said patiently, as if she were talking to Draco while he was raging, "that you are welcome to try. If you would like to set up meetings with Zither, summon her before you leave and tell her she has my permission to go whenever you need her to."

Hermione looked surprised in the way she had been when Ron tried to convince her that grades weren't the most important thing about school. "I will, then." Knowing the elves were being treated well was one of the only things that had made the prospect of coming here bearable for Hermione, who still had nightmares about the Drawing Room sometimes.

Narcissa nodded. "Now, to the matter at hand."

"Right," Harry stated firmly. He had been waiting for the right moment to begin this conversation without seeming rude and in a rush about it, and was glad when she changed the subject to the one he wanted to get over with. "Mr. Malfoy is being treated unfairly, that's clear from your letter," he began decisively. "What I don't understand is why you think I'm going to help him after everything. I've already gotten you all out of Azkaban, and you tricked me on that so I'd get him out too, even though he didn't deserve it."

Narcissa swallowed and nodded once sharply. "You are correct, Mr. Potter. That deception was planned. I will not apologize, as I am not sorry, and that would only insult you to lie once more."

Hermione bit her lip. Ron was squeezing the arms of his chair tightly to control himself. Harry was grateful to them for keeping their word here. Harry was to deal with Narcissa on his own, and unless a fight broke out his friends would keep their promise to behave. They could interject if they had something helpful to contribute, but mostly they were here for backup.

"Thank you for being honest, though I can't help but feel it's too late," he said firmly. "Now, I think I've already done enough for this family." Even his friends looked at him oddly at that one. He sounded tired, and was almost refusing to help when he'd been asked. That was unlike him, and Harry knew it, but it was how he felt. His life was in too much of a shamble at the moment to worry unduly about someone he wasn't friendly with. "Honestly I'd go to court for you or your son if I heard about something similar happening to you: neither of you have done the things your husband has and this level of prejudice wouldn't be fair. But Lucius HAS done things, horrible things, which almost excuses the way he's being treated here even in my mind. I don't like it, but I don't feel obligated to go out of my way for him just because it isn't fair."

Narcissa kept her face schooled into a perfect mask of patience as she listened. "I understand, Mr. Potter. Of course I didn't expect even you to go out of your way to help Lucius, though I am pleased to hear you hold no such issues with either my son or I. I brought you here to beg your assistance in the matter because I believe you are the only one who can help him. No one else will, nor do they have the power to sway the Ministry in the same way only you can. I am prepared to offer you whatever you like in return for your help."

Harry sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing his face wearily. "That's just it, Mrs. Malfoy. There isn't anything in the world I think you can give me that I'd consider valuable enough for this. I don't need money, you can't give me any more public presence than I have, and I'm not one for dealing under the table for anything else. I'm well aware this would constitute a life-debt from Lucius and he'd have to pay me back somehow, since I know he'll be sentenced to the kiss, but I don't want him interfering in my life in an attempt to keep track of me until then. It'd be like having another Snape after me, and as helpful as he was he was also an arse that I didn't need making my life any more stressful than it already was."

Narcissa's eyes sharpened at that and they almost began to shine. Harry winced, hoping desperately that she wasn't about to cry, because he couldn't handle women crying and he might just give in to make her stop. "Are you certain there is nothing? No favors, no properties, no knowledge that you would accept as fair recompense for this?"

"Mate… come'ere a minute." Ron gestured to Harry and Harry leaned in. Hermione looked to them in interest, but didn't interfere. Ron whispered urgently to his friend as clearly as he could even though he cast a quick silencing charm around them to prevent overhearing. "The Malfoys have connections and things, like books and artifacts, which not many families or even the Ministry has. Their family came over in the Norman Conquest, and they've been around longer than their bloody NAME has. We may not look it, but the Weasleys are as pure as they get anymore, and we know our history. We know who we were before the Weasley name was given to our wilder ancestors in the seventh century back when people only said where they were from instead of a family name, and I'll bet the Malfoys do too."

"So?" Harry pressed, not sure where this was going.

"Mate, they've got Viking and Druid and all sorts of backgrounds in their line. They might know a way to help you out with your problem," Ron said in a slight hiss.

Harry gaped. "How is that possible? St. Mungo's said-"

"Those aren't the kinds of doctors you go to for this sort of thing. They're more worried about saving lives than creating new ones. If you want to get help with fertility; _you go to a Pure-Blood Family_. They'll know about this stuff, because they've had to keep the line intact for so long. No way is there never a problem with obtaining an heir in such a long-established line, yeah? One or two of the heirs at least had to have problems. And since the line is still here, they solved them, didn't they?"

Ron sat back and dismissed the spell. "I think you should tell her," he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Ron!" Hermione snapped, knowing what he meant instantly.

Ron shook his head at her. "No, 'Mione. It's Harry's choice. I just said I think he should, didn't I? It's probably time to stop meddling and let Harry choose. The Malfoys might be able to help."

Hermione looked sick over it but she pursed her lips worriedly and kept silent. It was hard for her to accept how terribly important it was for Harry to have a legitimate heir, and Harry could understand that. Even to him it sounded pompous and ridiculous and even insulting that he wouldn't be happy with adopting alone, but it was still true. He wanted one of his own. Just one.

Narcissa looked between them with interest and hope. "Mr. Potter?"

"…give me a minute," he rasped.

Harry thought. Ron was telling him something terribly important here; that Narcissa might be the only person capable of helping him have his own children, whether through some kind of therapy or magic that only her family could provide, and he wanted to be certain before he made any decisions. Ron was, damn it all, the only Pure-Blood he knew that wouldn't lie about something like this. Even Molly would have given him little white lies to spare his feelings as any mother would, but not Ron. He knew very well how Harry felt about the Malfoys, but he also knew very well how much Harry wanted a family, his **own** family. And he was letting Harry choose.

It was a short thinking process. All Harry did was what he usually did and ask himself a single simple question with no bells and whistles to distract from the ultimate question. Was keeping Lucius Malfoy out of Azkaban and letting him get away with being… well, Lucius Malfoy, a worthy trade for his own legitimate children, even if he planned on adopting a few anyway?

…YES.

Yes, it was.

"Alright, Mrs. Malfoy. There is one thing," Harry said at last.

It took over an hour, but he spilled it all. He told her about Godric's Hallow and the night his parents died. He told her about the Dursley's and Dumbledore's deal with them. He told her about the way he had been raised, his childhood, the cot in the cupboard under the stairs, the starvation and work he had to do and favoritism and everything else. And when it was all done he told her the reasons he and Ginny had split up; stressing that his ultimate issue was only the last straw and not the entire reason they had called off the wedding. And then, finally, he told her about his deficiency.

The woman was stunned silent for a long time and the three allowed her time to process it all. In that time she had two cups of tea and, ultimately, called Zither back to bring them scotch and tumblers and sweetbread with crackers to help keep it down. Ron made a point of getting the elf to eat a cracker, guilt tripping her into it the way he would with a toddler, and Hermione beamed at him.

Eventually Narcissa spoke. "If this went public, the Muggle family that raised you would be found," she said at last. "They would find themselves facing thousands of wands." Then, she concluded, "And it would have absolutely nothing to do with purists."

"Agreed," Hermione said. "That is why the Wizarding world can never find out. Harry doesn't like them, but he would still be devastated over it."

"He is too kind," Narcissa fumed silently.

Ron snorted. "Yeah, we know. He isn't budging on it though. We tried."

The silence after was almost comfortable in its finality. Narcissa was weighing her options. "It is not so heavy a price," she concluded. "And it is a worthy one. One family member in exchange for another is a reasonable request."

"You mean that?" Harry asked hopefully. "You swear it?"

"I will **vow** it," she promised, and stood from her chair to kneel before him. She took his hands in hers, ignoring the way he squirmed a bit uncomfortably with the situation. He didn't like people kneeling to him, and she would remember that, but it was necessary just now. "Fulfilling a vow to me will negate any life debts Lucius may incur from what you do. I do not know if what you ask is possible, but I will do everything I can to give you an heir. If I have to surrogate myself I will do so. I only ask that what must be done will not jeopardize my relationship with my husband and preserve my reasonable fidelity to him."

Harry frowned. "Reasonable fidelity?"

Hermione spoke up. "Wizards don't have the same ways to surrogate as Muggles do, Harry. There isn't any medical equipment to do the job. If Mrs. Malfoy carries for you, she'll have to conceive the natural way. It isn't adultery, though, if you don't go past only what is necessary. It's considered a means to an end and nothing more. Her only request is that she won't have to carry any child that doesn't belong to you or her husband. Meaning you can't select another father if the paths she takes to help you fail."

"It seems fair, mate. You'll just have to find another surrogate if nothing helps, and Mrs. Malfoy can still fulfill her oath by covering the compensation and stuff," Ron reasoned, clearly unhappy about it. "If you want another Wizarding family with history to provide the seed, you could ask any one of us Weasleys. Or Nevile would be happy to help you out, you know."

Harry nodded. "That sounds reasonable, but I'd only want to do that as a previous clause to the adoption. If you can carry for me, Narcissa, without breaking the fidelity clause, then I'd rather it be you. It may sound strange, but I know you. I'd be more comfortable with you carrying than some woman I'm not familiar with. To be honest I would have told you about the engagement break if you'd asked me in person rather than leaving Lucius to it."

"You would have accepted my friendship, then?"

"I would," Harry confirmed.

Narcissa took a moment to search his eyes for lies and found none. She nodded gravely. "Understood. Who will witness this?"

Ron ground his teeth. "I will." He came forward with his wand and took his place between them, and Harry and Narcissa clasped their hands while Harry slid out of his chair to kneel across from her. Being Pure-Blood whether his family valued it or not, Ron was schooled in Unbreakable Vows. He cast wordlessly and with ease, and the vow began.

"Will you, Harry Potter, bring my husband back to me unchained from the Ministry, to be home and safe with his family with no charges on him from this event?" Narcissa began.

Harry answered firmly, "I will."

A long stream of red-hot power like a ribbon wound around their hands as the words exchanged. Each smaller vow within the main one would have its own ribbon, they knew. They would have to follow the proper order of events in this vow, or all would be lost, and the backlash could harm them all. Hermione stayed nearby as a witness, if one was needed in addition to the Bonder.

Harry asked next. "Will you, Narcissa Malfoy, use all abilities you possess and every power you know of short of Dark Arts to carry a legitimate heir for the Potter Family or, as a last resort only, locate and assist in a suitable adoption?"

"I will," she said. The ribbon wound. "Will you, Harry potter, swear that I will not be required to commit adultery to do this, outside of you yourself? That no other man shall be involved unless a surrogate other than myself is necessary to produce your heir?"

"I will," Harry answered. A third ribbon wound and linked with the other two, weaving like a bracelet strapping them together. "And will you, Narcissa Malfoy, allow that this heir will be mine alone in name and inheritance, and all affiliation to the Malfoy Family given only as gifts with no obligations attached?"

"I will," she swore.

The last ribbon sprung forth and linked, and wove, and melted into their skin to form a pattern of lines to remind them of it. When it was done, Harry stood and put his cloak back on.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"To the Ministry," Harry answered in a chipper tone. "I have a royal git to jailbreak."

"If nothing else," Narcissa smiled, ", seeing his expression when you come to his rescue should be worth the trip."

Three Gryffindors laughed and smiled at her before they left, and Narcissa was only left to wait and wonder.


	6. Trial and Error

magitech: Yes, I am aware that the Malfoys are far from innocent, but Harry isn't either. He attempted to cast Cruciatus on Bellatrix Lestrange and Severus Snape, though without success. Later he did successfully cast Cruciatus on Amycus Carrow, he also used the Imperius on Travers and Bogrod when they broke into Gringotts. While it is true he cast all but two of these during the reign of Voldemort and they were in fact legal at the time, there were no witnesses when he tried it the first two times. Harry isn't perfect. He isn't a fairy tale hero - he's a human being with faults just like everyone else. He has cast Unforgivables, and he got away with it, and some of them weren't even necessary.

Harry's apparent infertility isn't a case of poor swimmers - his sperm are in fact dead. I didn't explain that in the story, sorry about that.

While I agree that anything is possible, I don't believe there were any confirmed rapes in the books or movies, and I would prefer not to cite crimes that weren't confirmed in the actual story. Romilda Vane has more sexual deviance in her than the Malfoys do in cannon. On that note: Love potions ought to be illegal or at least highly regulated, not sold in joke shops in an area available to students.

In addition; yes, it sucks that the Malfoys got away scott-free after all of the things they did, but I'm not making it up. It happened in the books too. So did the Dursleys, which annoys me a bit more than the Malfoys getting away with it all. Prejudiced assholes all, but the Malfoys were at least doting parents.

kain: I'm glad you liked it. You are precisely right - my feeling when coming up with this story was that it was about damned time Harry got what he wanted, even if he had to be a bit of a prick about it to get things done. Thanks for noticing a bit of an overreaction on the side of another review, there. It worried me a little.

twist: DAMN IT! You're right - I did name two house-elves the same thing! I'll have to go back and change the name of Lucius's guard. I get stuck on names I like and tend to use them too often, even in different stories. T.T Sorry. Everyone - those are two different elves. My bad.

* * *

EDIT: FIX OF MAJOR CHARACTER ERROR (Removing Amelia Bones) AND CHANGE OF TITLE (Prosecutor to Defense)

Everyone: Pottermore is addictive as hell. Also, I suck at Potions. Hard. Three Cauldrons have exploded today. Snape would have perpetually had me in detention.

Mercurial Mermaid: Yeah, I really have no idea how a court system works. I just did a little reading and tried to write something that sounded good, hoping I didn't screw it up too badly. And I had no idea Amelia Bones was dead! Dang it, I've been trying not to resurrect characters. T.T Oh well. Thanks for pointing those out.

Kain: Yes, I had a major 'Amelia Bones' fuckup in this chapter. This is what happens when I skip a few minutes of research because I'm in the middle of a flow. I just remembered her name as being in that scene in the book, and didn't quite remember why. If I had stopped, I had the feeling I was going to lose my place writing and wouldn't get the feeling back. The hiding in Shacklebolt's office thing came from an RP with a friend. When we wrote it, it was fifteen pages of drunken bullshit and general idiocy. I couldn't resist putting it in there. Unfortunately it was not backed up and had been saved on my last computer... which died and took all of its wonderful knowledge with it. As well as all my Naga pictures and info. Damn it.

: Yes, yes she was. T.T;; I apologize.

* * *

It was his Disciplinary Hearing after the Dementor attack on him and Dudley all over again.

Draco and Narcissa had wanted to attend, but through some 'unfortunate' flub of the Ministry Post the owl delivering the new time and place of the trial had been ill and died on the way. The letter itself hadn't been charmed to alert the Ministry of this problem, as they are all supposed to be, because the charmer responsible had come down with a sudden case of a disease that was not-exactly-the-flu-but-close-enough-to-matter-and -no-you-can't-talk-to-him, which excused the error completely. Harry knew they were both meeting with their Healer to discuss Draco's recovery from his recent illness and were entirely unaware of the situation.

Harry, having taken Dumbledore's example, arrived at the Ministry three hours earlier than the initial appointment had been. When he asked of the correct place and time at the desk he had been directed to wait until the Receptionist had permission from the presiding Judge to allow new character witnesses, as trial was already in session. Harry informed her that she was full of massive amounts of Thestral shit and the law allowed anyone to witness so long as sentence had not been decided. He stormed past her in such a fury that his flaring magic unintentionally animated a tapestry of a thunderstorm in the corridor.

The booming and clacking of thunder and flashes of lightning heralded his opening the doors to the trial that had been going on for fifteen minutes without him or Malfoy's family present to assist him. Upon entering the courtroom Harry felt terribly unwelcome. All heads swiveled in his direction and the officials presiding in their absolutely ridiculous robes gave him a mixed look of awe and disappointment that he was quite accustomed to by now.

The Defense, Theophania Mardling, gave him a mildly impressed look down her nose and through thick purple glasses that made her blue eyes look soft no matter her mood. "Did you just conjure a storm in the hall for dramatic effect, Mr. Potter?" She sounded both amused and annoyed with him, but Harry knew her well and was glad to have a friend in the assembly of stubborn knot heads he could see from his place at the door.

"No, actually; your tapestry has gone mad. That was just lucky timing," he replied pluckily and with a charming smile. "Good, though, wasn't it?"

"Very good," she agreed. "I assume you are here as a Character Witness?"

"No," Harry said, which surprised everyone. "I'm just here to watch the Trial. Shame about the Ministry owls, though."

Theophania blinked. "What do you mean?"

"They all seem to be coming down with something. The one delivering the updated time and location of this trial went missing with my letter; poor thing must not have been flying straight. And the Malfoy family's owl mysteriously died on the way to them, so they never got the letter either." Harry looked to the Judge. "And I assume there was no rescheduling this until the family could be present?"

Harry wasn't familiar with the man, but there was something altogether unpleasant about him. Harry knew nice people when he saw them. It didn't matter if they were pretty either. One could have crooked teeth, moles, speckled skin, wiry hair, and untidy clothes, but if a person was kind there was always something in their eyes that indicated it; a sort of softness that couldn't be faked. Harry usually got a sense of this at his first meeting with someone. The Judge himself was a rather fit man, loosely curled chestnut hair, nicely shaped face, hazel eyes and all that stereotypically 'beautiful' tripe, but he looked immediately like a right arse when Harry met his eyes.

It was at this moment Harry scrapped his original plan of simply waiting for his Trump Card to arrive and decided to be a fantastically annoying prat.

"We were unaware the letters had not been delivered, Mr. Potter. Sincere apologies will be issued, though we cannot postpone the trial once it has begun," the Judge stated calmly through clenched teeth.

Harry nodded and flashed them a disarming smile. "I completely understand. I'll take my seat so that you can continue, shall I? Hello, Lucius," Harry said pleasantly as he passed the chained man kneeling on the floor. Apparently they hadn't provided him with a chair, as was procedure. Old as he was, being on the floor was likely hell on his knees and was libel to keep him in pain for the duration. Harry ignored the furious and shocked look Lucius gave him, though he would certainly always remember it as gloriously affronted. For now, though, he simply took his seat.

"Now, back to the matter at hand," the Head Interrogator, Cleonie Rookwood began. Harry supremely disliked her from his experience watching the trials she presided over and mentally entertained the image of crushing her head with his eyelids as he blinked. "Lucius Malfoy is charged with instigating a fight in which he-"

"-why isn't Mr. Malfoy speaking?" Harry asked suddenly, interrupting like Hermione in class artlessly professing she wanted something repeated please, which was the most irritating way he could possibly think to do it.

Theophania looked ready to laugh and had pursed her lips to keep it coming out. She barely managed.

"He was being unruly," the Judge said firmly. "A silencing charm was placed on him to restore order to the courtroom."

Lucius flashed the man a scowl and bit his lip in lieu of being able to swear.

"No more than anyone else had been this morning," Mrs. Mardling said shortly. "I objected to it, remember? And the records ought to show Lucius Malfoy's every word up until then being just to the annoying side of things and not totally offensive, right Mr. Wrenker?"

The Court Scribe nodded and then ducked to continue his record keeping without meeting any eyes.

Harry looked thoughtful from his place in the benches. "I'm certainly not questioning your right to discipline those within your courtroom. It's only that when I went through the Auror Training Program I was taught that the Accused has the right to speak in his own defense and is not to be detained from doing so by either barrier, spell, order, or," he cast a significant look at Rookwood, who winced, ", frequent interruption. Has that law been changed?"

The judge scowled furiously at Harry's innocently blinking green eyes. Harry met his stare as evenly and inoffensively as a First Year asking why the Forbidden Forest was forbidden. Eventually the Judge snapped his fingers and the charm was removed. "No, Mr. Potter, it has not."

"Oh, alright, then." Harry said. "So sorry to interrupt; please carry on." He sat silently and patiently in the room and waited for them to continue. Lucius glanced back at him with angry curiosity in his eyes, which Harry grinned at. He was beginning to feel as if this was the most fun he'd had at the Ministry in years, short the one time he and Ginny and Kingsley had been celebrating Harry's victory over Voldemort on its first anniversary and they'd all been hiding in the Minister's office to get away from the press, and they had gotten so far into several bottles of elf wine that the Undersecretary had to come in and throw water on them the next morning.

Cleonie Rookwood opened her mouth to speak the charges once more.

"Is there a lack of chairs in the courtroom?"

She snapped her mouth shut again with an audible click of teeth and gave him a look that might have made Voldemort stand up and applaud. "No, Mr. Potter. Why?" she demanded tightly.

"No, reason, but I think…" he said as plainly as Hermione instructing Ron how to cut Potions ingredients when he clearly didn't give a rat's arse. "…that the accused has the right to a seat. Am I wrong?" It hadn't been his intention at all, but Harry thought for just an instant he heard Lucius snickering.

"Oh, you're right," Mrs. Mardling said with a bright and mothering expression, and stood to get one. A wave of her wand and a summoned chair landed next to Mr. Malfoy, who frowned at it.

"How am I to take the offered seat," he began in a tone that dripped annoyance, "when I cannot move for the chains?" They had probably not come off since his arrest days ago, Harry surmised. The man looked a mess. His hair was all bedraggled and in a great tangle, his face and hands dirty, and the uniform suspiciously clean as if someone had cast a charm on it to banish the filth he'd been forced to live in during his confinement.

The Judge snapped at him. "The seat had been offered per the law Mr. Potter so graciously pointed out for you. Your failure to take it is not our problem."

The door opened again to a clatter of thunder and the flash of lightning, which rumbled in the hall even after the door was shut. The Wizard that had opened the door had been startled by it and fell through, twisting round to look at the door in surprise. "What happened to that tapestry?"

"No idea." Harry beamed at him. "Hello, Mr. Weasley."

"Harry, my boy! Good to see you. I was just coming to oversee the trial and… oh, my. Malfoy, what are you doing on the floor?" Arthur set the files he was holding down and went to help Lucius into the chair beside him, using the Ministry's patented charm to remove the most cumbersome of chains. It was very clear that this deeply frustrated the blonde and he snapped several things at Arthur in French, which the ginger ignored as if his rival were behaving like a petulant child. With Lucius in his chair, able to speak, confused and generally seething, Arthur handed the files to the Defense, who smiled at him in thanks. "Just in time, was I?" he said brightly. "I've found the files the Aurors in charge of investigating this case lost – bit of a mess, too. The parrot that saw the whole thing was enchanted to collect memories into a pensive for the owner, you see, to catch thieves in action. A lot like those Muggle security cameras. Brilliant, right? There was a mix-up in transfer, though, and I had to search for hours to get them back-"

"IF YOU WILL TAKE YOUR SEAT!" the Judge roared, slamming his stone gavel down on the desk.

Arthur blinked at him in surprise. "Oh, of course, sir." He did so and then whispered to Harry. "What's his problem?"

Harry shrugged. "I am."

"Good lad."

Harry had explained this whole thing to Arthur the day before and asked for him to keep track of any evidence that might get conveniently lost. Percy helped, as did Hermione. Someone had still managed to hide the most important evidence though and Arthur had only just managed to get it back. Arthur, understandably, had some initial issues with getting Lucius off the hook. Even he had to admit, though, that this was not the way the Ministry should be run and even Lucius Malfoy didn't deserve to get Azkaban over summoning help. The fact of Harry's Vow hadn't come up until later, at which point the entire Weasley family had mobilized to keep the idiot from getting killed due to making a promise he couldn't keep.

Harry wasn't worried though. He was expecting his Trump Card to arrive any moment now.

Mrs. Mardling cleared her throat and opened the file. A small phial was inside, and she took it to the pensieve that was common in the courtrooms now. "The admittance of new, or rather recovered, evidence will now be reviewed. Interrogators, please take your places."

One by one the Judge, Interrogators and Mrs. Mardling herself viewed the memories.

It took a fair amount of time and Harry looked at the clock on the wall, which told him that he'd distracted them a fair amount of time before Arthur managed to get back with the recovered memories. "Thanks, Mr. Weasley."

Arthur nodded to him. "No problem. You're going to tell me what you did to get them so on-edge, right?"

"Of course." Harry smiled.

Once all of the officials were back in their seats and began speaking amongst themselves, Harry watched and waited for precisely the most inopportune time he could. "Excuse me, Judge?"

The man gave him a severe look. "What is it _now_, Mr. Potter?"

"Isn't there supposed to be a call for character witnesses before the Judge and Interrogators begin deliberating the evidence?" Harry asked.

The Judge threw his hands up in the air, clearly exasperated. "Mr. Potter, you stated upon entering the courtroom that you were only here to watch, not as a witness."

Harry nodded. "I know, but Mr. Weasley has come in since then."

The man pinched the bridge of his nose. "Would any attending the trial like to provide a Character Witness?"

Arthur put up his hand with a small smile. "No, thank you."

"May we continue?" Rookwood asked fiercely.

"Yes," Harry and Arthur replied in unison.

It was like playing chess with the opposing team missing all their pawns. Their frustration was almost making Harry laugh out loud, though he held it back with great strength of will. It wouldn't be too much longer anyway, and Lucius would be free. The Judge and Interrogators had been giving Harry a lot of evidence on a case Harry had been working on as an independent contractor for a while now, and Lucius Malfoy had unwittingly provided him with everything he needed to trigger another Ministry reform.

Harry began counting backward from ten in his head while he could sense the Minister himself getting closer to the courtroom, through the proximity charm he'd set up in the hall when he'd animated the Tapestry.

_Ten._

_Nine._

_Eight._

The judge stood. "We shall now deliberate the evidence in the trial of Lucius Malfoy."

_Seven._

_Six._

_Five._

They began to speak in hushed tones, for just under three seconds. It was the very short sort of 'let's condemn him and go have drinks' agreement Harry had expected. The Defense unfortunately had been outnumbered, and Harry saw her frown.

_Four._

_Three._

_Two._

"We have found the Accused-"

_One._

The doors opened and another bang of thunder erupted from the hall. Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped into the room with an odd look at the assembled officials on the stand. "What the bloody hell happened to that tapestry?"

"We don't know, sir," Arthur said pleasantly. "But it's been providing some dramatic entrances for us, so we didn't report it yet."

Harry bit his lip to stifle himself.

The Judge and all other officials stood. "Minister. To what do we owe this visit?"

Shacklebolt gave them all a serious look. "Oh, I've had Harry here witnessing the case for me. Just a random trial supervision to be sure they are all being conducted properly, you understand. It has come to my attention there has been some favoritism among the Aurors and within the Ministry that's causing certain people to be judged unfairly."

All but the Defense, who looked a bit smug, turned an interesting shade of nervous pink.

Harry stood. "It is true that some of our officials are regretting the ease with which they tried some Death Eaters after the war, and now they are trying to rectify that mistake by charging unwarranted punishments for current crimes, no matter how petty." He crossed his arms and stood in front of Lucius and faced the officials. "That isn't fair. The fact that some people got off too easily because they were being tried by family should be irrelevant to current crimes. If you didn't want that to happen then you shouldn't have been trying by family in the first place."

"There wasn't time!" Rookwood stood and shouted in desperation. "There were too many to try and not enough trusted officials! Doing it any other way would have let too many go free until we could get to them!"

Harry shot her a look sharp enough to cut glass. "I don't want to hear that from you, Mrs. Rookwood. It wasn't the side you were ever worried about – it was who you could kiss up to in order to further your career. Whatever you needed to do to get your way didn't matter, be it sending a man to his death for a simple matter of breaking probationary rules, or trying to get underage wizards and witches expelled for being the children of Death Eaters. If you're lucky you'll only get sacked, if you're not I'll have to attend your trial. Now do yourself a favor and sit down, because the Minister hasn't decided which yet."

White and shaking, she did so.

The Judge cleared his throat. "Minister, if you please-"

"Quiet," Shacklebolt snapped. "I'll decide what to do with you all after I view Harry's memories. Mrs. Mardling, you don't look terribly concerned." He said to her with interest.

She shrugged. "I've got nothing to be concerned about."

Harry went to the Pensieve. He pulled the memory of the trial from beginning to present out in a silver line, which he placed in the water there. While the Minister watched it, Harry knelt beside Lucius. "Having fun, then?"

"What are you doing, Potter?" the man asked him tiredly. "I was resigned and now you've gone and made me lose that state of mind. This will just be done over again with a different set of officials, and I'll get the Kiss anyway."

"You should have gotten it the first time round, Mr. Malfoy. Don't think I've forgiven your family's little plot to make it look like I supported you." Harry sneered.

"Just come to make me miserable, then? You needed more evidence and I was convenient? I'd expected better of you."

The intended insult fell on deaf ears. "So did I, really," Harry agreed smoothly.

"Away, Potter. Leave me." Lucius demanded.

"Sorry," Harry smiled at him. "Can't do that."

Lucius gave him a perplexed look while Harry witnessed and testified against the Judge and Interrogators, while the Defense and Court Scribe remained. Arthur Weasley stayed and provided his account and memories of the lost files. All together harry was sure that the Judge was under serious investigation and recommended therapy for his post-war guilt over the trials he'd had to clock out and Rookwood had been sacked.

It was then that the real trial began.

"Minister, if you wouldn't mind," Arthur began. "Mr. Malfoy's offence isn't really worthy of a full trial. It's only a minor probation transgression. A ruling by the Minister after reviewing the evidence would be sufficient to enact any necessary punishment, and it would free up resources for us to try more serious cases."

Kingsley nodded. "That is true, Arthur. However there is some legal precedent for a harsher hearing in the case of Lucius Malfoy. His past transgressions make him a risk in many ways, and unless someone trustworthy would be willing to supervise him until the end of his probationary period-"

"I will, sir," Harry said simply.

Both Minister and Lucius looked to him with wide eyes.

"You realize, Harry, that this would mean you would have to remain on the Manor grounds for the duration of his Probation?" Kingsley asked by means of explanation. "I know this trial had some meaning for you, since it was your testimony that freed the Malfoy family after the war, but I wasn't aware you were on friendly enough terms with them to stay in their home without fear."

Harry drew himself up and nodded. "As a matter of fact, Mrs. Malfoy and I have an active Vow. If I did not trust her enough to fulfill it, I would not have made it in the first place."

Lucius rose from his seat and rushed at Harry in a rage, which Harry easily blocked with a wave of his hand. A simple levitation had the man impotently spluttering at Harry several feet off the ground. "What have you made my wife promise you?!" he demanded. "She would have told me if there were such a deal struck!"

"Calm down, Lucius." Arthur clucked at him. "If you're worried about it you don't know Harry well."

"And you're insulting Narcissa's intelligence and pride," Harry informed him.

Kingsley looked to Harry with a frown. "Was bringing her husband home a condition of this vow?"

"Yes," Harry said simply. "But I don't see how that is an issue here considering a full trial was unwarranted in the first place. A simple matter of self-defense on first offence for a probationary period of five years is a warning, and not even a serious one at that. I knew I'd be able to bring him home because there was no legal precedent to prosecute him to begin with."

Lucius was looking between them with an increasingly complicated expression. For a man that normally had a steely mask of indifference, the conflicting emotions flashing across his face now made him look alive at last.

Kingsley sighed. "Well, you have a fair point. If you are willing to do so, Harry, I'll appoint you Lucius Malfoy's Probation Officer for the remainder of his punishment. That is a full three years from today. Fulfilling this will require you moving into the Manor to supervise him at a close distance, given his past. I trust you are powerful enough to bring him down should it be necessary."

Harry locked his eyes onto the blonde's and Lucius suddenly stopped fighting his confinement and went still. "It won't be," Harry said firmly.

Seeing his freedom once again in reach, the blonde simply nodded in agreement.

"Oh, very well, then." Kingsley waved them off. "Arthur, work with Mrs. Mardling and Mr. Wrenker on filing the appropriate forms. Harry, I expect a formal change of residency inside 24 hours, is that clear?'

"Yes, sir." Harry agreed readily.

The Minister symbolically banged the gavel and jumped when the hallway echoed him. "Harry, take Mr. Malfoy home. And _will somebody_ _fix that bloody tapestry!_?"


	7. Proginitor Puzzle

I'm having considerable trouble with the end chapters of Harry Potter and the Last True Pure Blood. Whoever is waiting for that story to update: I am sorry. The reason isn't lack of time to write because I am working on other things, it is that I don't like what I've written. I am scrapping the failed chapters and doing the ending over again. I won't post crap.

* * *

After that everything went by rather quickly. Lucius seemed to be in shock over unexpectedly escaping yet again so he didn't argue too much over Harry side-along apparating him to the Manor grounds, nor did he raise a fuss when Narcissa moved Potter into the Gilded Bedroom on the second floor within the next four hours. Lucius did all those things that he thought most important first. This involved reconnecting with his wife and son, inquiring about their respective illnesses and making sure they were both alright, checking on the home finances, getting himself properly cleaned up (not necessarily in that order) and then raging hotly at Harry for several hours for subjecting his wife to an unbreakable vow to get him out of prison.

Harry was startled by this as it had come out of nowhere the next morning just after he'd had a sound and uninterrupted night's sleep in the Manor already and had thought the initial rage would at least wait until after the vow was explained in full. He considered telling Lucius that it had been Narcissa's suggestion in the first place and entirely not his fault, but a look to her for help only indicated to him two things; 1: that Lucius did this inconsolable hissy-fit thing quite a lot in the privacy of his home and 2: it was pointless to interrupt him. Harry joined her in staring blankly and without impress at the man until he wore himself out and collapsed into his armchair. It was flanked by his two dogs that nuzzled his hands to try and cheer him up after his rant. They had spent a good portion of the fit punctuating their Master's tirade by barking at Harry since he'd been the one their Master was yelling at and they wanted to be included in the discussion and didn't like him if Lucius didn't. Lucius pet them absentmindedly while he glared at the two across from him, waiting for an explanation.

An elf brought them all wine and popped out of the room again.

"Are you through?" Narcissa asked eventually. Lucius gestured vaguely at her. "Good. I am pleased you are home, Lucius, but you ought to calm down. I wouldn't make a vow without good reason or without appropriate worth on both sides of the arrangement."

"I know that," he admitted slowly.

Harry raised a brow. "So you're just raging at me for the hell of it?"

Lucius snorted. "I don't see why not."

Narcissa smiled while Harry rubbed his face tiredly. She stood and knelt beside her husband's chair. The dogs slunk away after she stole their spot and growled at Harry as they left. There, Narcissa took Lucius's hands in hers. "Mr. Potter has tasked me with exchanging one family member for another. In return for you, I am to help him with his family matters."

Lucius gave her an inquiring nod. "I am quite certain that Potter has no immediate family."

"That," Narcissa stated bluntly, ", is the point." From there she began to explain. She had already gotten Harry's permission to share his main problem with Lucius, though he was not to know the details leading to it. It took her a while, and Harry had to admit her approach to it was very gentle and diplomatic and allowed her audience ample time to come to terms with the previous fact before moving on to the next. She was a smooth talker, a skilled negotiator, and a good judge of when pauses were needed. She explained the terms of the vow in full, in detail and without embellishment. When she was finished, Lucius was staring rather blankly out the window.

"That is quite a bit more effort on your part than Mr. Potter put into earning my liberation," he said.

Narcissa stood and nodded to him. "I am aware, though the result is no less valuable."

Lucius looked to Harry with clear hate. "And how long will she have with the child before you take them away?"

Harry blinked. He honestly hadn't thought of that. "Er…" he began, then lapsed into an embarrassed silence.

Lucius growled at him. "You heard me Potter. How long will Narcissa be expected to care for the child? Will you hire a Wet Nurse or expect her to breastfeed the as well as bear, and if so for how long? Are you going to pay for her Midwife or is it our responsibility? What compensation will she receive for the work she will miss while recovering from the birth? These are questions you should have considered before having the vow made, damn you."

"I don't know!" Harry snapped. "It was her idea to volunteer that in the first place! I was just going to leave all those decisions to her, since she seems to know a hell of a lot more about it than I do!"

Lucius snorted derisively at him. "So the most useful thing you have managed to do thus far is admit your imbecility and relinquish control, so long as the tenets of the Vow are fulfilled? I suppose things could be worse."

He had expected a lot of fight and anger. Harry was seriously taken aback by Lucius's reaction. He was inquiring on how much this was going to inconvenience his wife, not refusing the fact that Harry would have to intrude on their marriage to achieve it. Hermione and Ron must have been right – this was not viewed as adultery. There was clear dislike of it in Lucius's tone and behavior, but he was not deeply hurt by the prospect. As far as Harry was concerned, that solved the biggest problem already.

Harry looked to Narcissa for help, but she was biting her lip and failing to suppress a smile. Harry groaned. "Look, I'm going to be here for three years to keep your arse out of Azkaban. Could you not torture me about it?"

"I will torment you as I like," Lucius snapped, ", as the debt for that is being actively paid by my wife and your Vow is no reason for me to change my mind about you, Potter."

Harry palmed his face in frustration. "You're going to make this as difficult as humanly possible, aren't you?" Oh well, he thought. It's only three years and I'll get my heir. I've done harder things.

"Clearly," said Draco from the doorway, ", you underestimate my Father if you believe he is constrained by mere human levels of possibility." He looked as thin and pallid as he had in the Great Hall just after the battle, his face worry-worn and vaguely sickly.

"Draco," Lucius said quickly. He stood and went into the hall, urging his son out with him.

Harry sighed as he heard the man asking about his son's health and how he was and if he had any wants or needs. It made his chest heavy. Harry did not like Lucius Malfoy at all, that would likely never change. There was one nasty thing he could never call the man, though, and that was a bad Father. A bigoted one, yes, but not a bad one; Draco had been well cared for and loved, if not well-raised. Much as Harry liked the way he had turned out, he knew he would have preferred being a bit more selfish and mean to the memories of falling asleep clutching his stomach in pain from hunger, to the smell of weed killer and the sound of good food and happy people just out of his reach beyond a locked cupboard door.

If Harry had his way Draco would never know Harry envied him, but he could not deny the feeling existed. This was yet another reason Harry couldn't see how letting Narcissa Malfoy surrogate would be a bad thing. Even Lucius would no doubt dote even symbolically on one of his wife's born, his or not. He looked to Narcissa. "Is he still sick? I thought you had private Healers."

Narcissa gave him an annoyed look, her nose raised almost the way it had been when he first met her as a child. "His illness is not of the easily cured sort, Mr. Potter. For good or bad, my son has always been stubborn. Even his health is fickle at times."

Harry chuckled. "I didn't think it went that far."

Lucius came back in a moment later, worry on his face. "Mr. Potter, I will take my leave of you. My office is directly adjacent to your room, if you must see me, likewise you may summon an elf to relay messages."

"I have to see you at least once a day. The Minister was very clear on that point." Harry stood.

"Very well, we will meet for meals at least. Will that suffice?" Narcissa suggested. Harry and Lucius grudgingly agreed that was practical. She inclined her head gently to them, touching Lucius's shoulder gently as she left. "If you will all excuse me," she said with resolve, ", I have work to do."

* * *

It was something Narcissa never thought she would have to do.

Weeks had passed. The men in the Manor were getting along well, if only because they didn't speak much. Narcissa tirelessly worked toward the promised goal, and despite her best efforts there was no outcome yet. It wasn't that she was doggedly pursuing a single prospect, it was that her research was constantly conflicting itself. She could not pass the surrogacy option unless it had been thoroughly ruled out and that... had not happened yet. It was all very confusing. Everything in her tests, studies, inquiries and divinations were giving her conflicting answers.

The tests all confirmed Mr. Potter's infertility, yet denounced all of the causes. His stay with the Dursleys had been horrid, but hadn't prevented his developing well enough to suppress reproductive function; that was simply the easiest explanation for the Healers to give Mr. Potter to placate his curiosity. Pride was a problem at St. Mungo's and often the 'best' of the Wizarding world would make up any plausible excuse rather than admit they had no idea what was happening. It was true that the things he endured would have caused such damage in a Muggle or even a lesser Wizard. Mr. Potter, though, was more resilient than he gave himself credit for – than the healers who had examined him gave him credit for. His enlarged liver was the only solid evidence on the physical level of his former life. It had to have been something else.

Her studies had pointed to several options, however Mr. Potter was irritatingly resistant to fertility spells and potions to the point where even a technique similar to Muggle cloning – simply fertilizing an emptied Witch's egg with his essence and allowing the body to grow naturally into a baby, had failed. She couldn't even _copy_ him, and that was highly unusual. Often this was a sign of a fated being, someone who was only meant to exist once and once alone in a way that a copy would interfere with. Narcissa had no doubts that this could be the case as Potter's existance had surely changed the course of history dramatically, but fated beings often were prevented from this method of reproduction by the fetus itself resisting the assimilation of a soul. Normally after a body developed into a large enough fetus, any body, it would naturally attract a wayward soul to it. The manufactured child would have been basically stillborn, since the soul their body was meant to have already existed in it in the form of their progenitor. With Mr. Potter, the fetus would not develop at all. The fertilized egg would not die, but it would not grow; it was perpetually stuck in a place of non-advancement. Narcissa had never encountered this before and the books and scrolls she was working from had absolutely no mention of that type of failure. It merited further study and she would have to add the case to the scrolls, though she would keep her vow of secrecy and omit the names of those involved.

No matter the inquiry made to any of her contacts, there seemed to be no answer forthcoming. Nobody had any idea what was going on with her 'friend' and they didn't seem too willing to go out of their way to help. It would not have been a good investment of time or money now that associating with the Malfoys as they were now a relatively weak political power and would not offer much prestige. Citing Potter's name would certainly have gotten instant assistance, but that avenue was closed to her, so she had moved on.

She had enlisted Draco's assistance in her Divination efforts. Lucius did not abide it, but their son was a skilled Diviner; it had been his best subject and one of the few things he legitimately enjoyed doing. It was not a profession many men excelled at, however, and was generally regarded as a woman's career, therefore Lucius did not think it an achievement. Narcissa, however, knew better than that. It meant Draco had a unique connection to himself and those around him, because one of the primary elements needed for proper divining was _empathy_. These made it all the more likely that he would understand the messages and interpret them properly.

Unfortunately the Divinations added nothing but confusion to an already convoluted picture.

According to the signs, Mr. Potter was as fertile as a man could possibly get without the ability to procreate through osmosis. His readings were rife with fertility symbols to the point where it was the only reply they had gotten. The universe had spoken; when they had asked, 'Will Potter have children?' or 'Is Potter fertile?' or 'Will a child come soon?' the answer had been a very clear, 'YES-YES-YES'. After trying again and again to confirm the signs, the oracles had eventually gotten fed up with them and told them to stop asking. They had their answer already, and asking the question again only earned them the emptiness of no reply.

The only redeeming evidence she had gotten from that method was this: Draco had assured her he'd seen that she was clever and would find the answer, and not to be in fear of the Vow. Somehow, they would succeed. She sensed there was more in his reading than he was telling her, but he had always been an aloof child with his own priorities, and had a tendency to keep a very personal relationship with the oracles. He may have been asked not to tell her something.

For now, this would do.

At last she had gotten fed up and thrown a fit worthy of her sister Bellatrix. Half her Cabinet had been in tatters by the time she was finished, and she had managed to destroy many things she held dear in her tantrum. She was so close. There had to be something she was overlooking, some way she could hold to her vow and give Mr. Potter the heir he so desperately desired. He was a valuable ally, had treated her family well; far better than she knew they deserved from him.

She **would** fulfill her promise.

With the signs so clear that Potter would be able to sire a child of his own if only the method could be found to do it, she could not justify another surrogate or father per the conditions of the vow. In order to keep to her promise, the only way it was possible to provide the heir was to surrogate herself and do whatever she could to discover precisely how Potter could be made effectively fertile.

So, with no other course open to her, Narcissa employed a different tactic. Instead of trying to find out the one thing Mr. Potter had that made him different, she would ask how he was similar to other wizards that she could study. She would summon an oracle directly instead of relying on the little bits of symbolism, feelings and sounds that were given in simple divination. When the Ifrit appeared to her she would ask something that would give her better reference materials.

Narcissa prepared the potion as delicately as she was able. Her skill was a far cry from dear Severus, or even Lucius. It took her days of effort and several tries and many expensive and hard to find ingredients and variations on the recipes to brew the concoction correctly. She might have asked for help, but the Vow nagged at her when she considered it. No… this was her promise and she had to fulfill it. Finally the oracle appeared to her. All she could see was a geometric form to represent the being's consciousness hovering before her, a dodecahedron if she was not mistaken, with runes she had never seen engraved on each facet that glowed an angry red.

"Please," she asked respectfully, curtsying as best she could in her exhausted state. "I wish to know of Harry James Potter's ailment that prevents him from producing an heir."

The oracle spun wildly, the wind knocking her back and onto the floor. "I cannot tell you of what does not exist."

"I know. I remember the signs. I have seen that a child will come of him, but how?" She asked respectfully. "I must know if his condition is unique or if it has happened before."

The spinning slowed. "Harry James Potter is not unique in his being."

Narcissa stood and put out her hands pleadingly. "If you cannot tell me what is preventing his having children-"

"NOTHING prevents him." It told her sharply.

Narcissa cringed. "Can you tell me who else had this same situation? Tell me if the puzzle has been solved before."

A burst of dizzying energy shot through the room and made Narcissa fall to her knees. To her it felt as if the oracle were laughing. She saw in her mind the iconic image of King Arthur and Merlin standing side-by-side flanked by Uther Pendragon and Ingraine, and suddenly it was all gone.

Narcissa stood once she had recovered herself and sighed. It wasn't a lot, but it was a starting point. She had a clue. Resigned to start from scratch in a new direction, she gathered information on the Arthurian legends and began to read.

As it turned out, it hadn't been a clue at all. She had been shown exactly what she needed.

Less than an hour later Narcissa closed the book in her hand and stood with a horrible sinking in her gut. The mark of the Vow on her arm suddenly seemed no longer the mark of a promise to an ally, but the mark of a new Lord. She had made a promise to a great power in order to save her husband from one prison, and in doing so had trapped them both in another.

Most people had heard the following story concerning the Arthurian legends; Uther Pendragon and Merlin knew each other well. They were good friends and allies, and always went together. When Arthur lusted after Ingraine, the wife of his enemy, Merlin had assisted him with magic in taking her husband's form to lie with her in deception. From that union, King Arthur was born.

Her reading had told her this:

This story was incorrect. It hadn't taken her long to piece together facts to form a more coherent picture from one popularly ignored fact regarding Merlin's origins.

The vision she had seen was a picture of one complete family unit. Child, Mother… and fathers.

Arthur was not the son of Uther Pendragon and Ingraine, not completely. He was a squib born to Merlin, through them. Only Merlin's greatest power was inherited through the union, because that was the only thing he was able to pass on: power. Merlin was unable to assist in producing a body for his child because he was too unstable in the physical sense as a changeling. He needed Uther and Ingraine to make the body, be the physical parents of Arthur, whereas Merlin passed on only his prominent link to the powers of Fate, which made King Arthur the greatest King of his time despite his inability to use magic. Merlin had followed his son and helped him as any good father would through his life. That was why the old Wizard had been so obsessed with the King.

Merlin was a Cambion: the son of an Incubus. Far from the Muggle beliefs, Incubi and Succubi were not demons - they were a type of Ifrit, just like Oracles or Djinn. The only main difference was that they thrived on sexual energy rather than cosmic energy. And as Ifrit they were only able to transfer power to their offspring, as are Cambions. As a result of this they require two mates, a male and female, to produce a child. The power would come from the Cambion, as well as one single external feature to mark them, while the human parents would have made the body.

Harry Potter was not sterile. He was a Cambion.

Considering a moment the Potter line, Narcissa decided that Lily must have been the Cambion from which Harry's power came. It was an obvious explanation for how such a brilliant and powerful witch had been born to Muggles. It had to have been Lily, since it was clearly her power that had marked Harry so deeply, and he had inherited _only_ her eyes and nothing else, that being the single external characteristic to mark him hers. He would have been conceived by a human mother. The Potters had used a surrogate. It wouldn't have been difficult for Lily to find one, as Cambion are known for their odd ability to attract anything.

The surrogate must have died either during or shortly after his birth, or perhaps had only been paid for the job. It was even possible she had helped James in the hallway, and had simply not been a part of Harry's memories due to chance. Harry would have identified Lily as his sole mother anyway because of his power link to her until age would have brought greater understanding.

Per the terms of their Unbreakable Vow Narcissa could not perform adultery to produce a child for Potter under any circumstances. Therefore, Lucius belonged to Potter as well because he could use no other male to seed without breaking the vow. In her ignorance of Potter's heritage Narcissa had doomed her husband to be the third parent of the Potter heir.

She began to specifically research Cambion and their ethereal progenitors madly, looking for an escape to this situation. She did not fear for her life: Lucius would not allow her to die for the sake of his own comfort. It only pained her that she knew she had forced her beloved into this situation against his will.

What she found only made the situation more miserable.

Cambion were known to be madly possessive of their breeding partners. Though their ethereal parents were not, Cambion possessed mostly human bodies, and with that came human urges that were exacerbated by the power they would pass on to their children. Merlin had orchestrated the death of Ingrain's first husband to steal her away from him, so that she could marry Uther and they would all be together whether she liked it or not. It was not a choice for either Uther or Ingraine after the child had been brought forth. Merlin would not allow their escape from him.

The moment a child was conceived, those urges would consume Potter just as fiercely as they had Merlin.

Lucius and Narcissa would have a new Lord.

* * *

Yes, the Oracle was D20. Shut up; I'm a geek. Talk to my epic level Sorcerer. His spellbook is a hell of a lot more detailed than anything on Pottermore, I can tell you that.


	8. Alone Time

delia cerrano: Yes, this definitely a threesome story, as three people are required to make a Cambion's baby. It is in the description: Harry/Lucius/Narcissa. One of the filters is 3Plus.

Mindexplosions: I'm glad you approve of most of the story, but this isn't essentially a slash-fic. It's a fic involving an exploration of sexuality for the purpose of procreation in different species, and exploring the concept of love in a multi-mate situation. In my mind, gender doesn't matter; I myself am Bisexual and have had both boyfriends and girlfriends, so I am not a slash-fic writer per-se, I only write the characters I feel work together best personality-wise. Unfortunately in popular media the females are the stock character types that women don't find attractive on a mature level, and males turn out to be the only well-developed ones. That's why most of my stories are slash. I don't generally have well-developed females to work within the genres I like. The Harry Potter stories are different. I'm very fond of Hermione, Ginny, Molly, Luna and Narcissa.  
Harry, Lucius and Narcissa would work very well as a combined unit, I think. At the same time I appreciate and respect that you don't subscribe to slash, but I feel I should in all fairness warn you that the first scene will be Harry/Lucius. However, I will include a warning in the end of the previous chapter so you don't have to worry about stumbling upon it. Please read up until then. I'll try to make the story interesting for you.

Twist: I know it was a lot of information all at once, sorry. It was necessarily intense. I needed to get Narcissa's shock across without directly stating it, because when I tried that it sounded a bit... cheap. So instead I tried inspiring that feeling in the readers. As for Lucius; I'm probably projecting my impression of him in this story. Draco grew up very, very quickly in the books out of necessity, and he showed steely character and a sense of ultimate purpose before his parents did (i.e. not identifying Harry in the Skirmish at Malfoy Manor, not killing Dumbledore, Lamenting his family's situation in Myrtle's bathroom, etc...) and yet I always thought Lucius was an immature prick. Getting into a fist-fight with Arthur in the bookstore while the _children were behaving_ didn't help that impression, and he whines a lot when Voldemort is concerned. So he's very smart and has a great public face when needed, but that doesn't mean he's not a puerile little whiner in private. Draco is more mature by far as far as I can see. Draco, by my impression, is like Harry in that he was forced to be an adult before his time.

All: Forgive the late chapter. I'm trying to get Harry Potter and the Last True Pure-Blood back on track, and my son in teething. I haven't slept in three days.

* * *

The first thing Harry learned about his home for the next three years was that Peacocks utterly despised him for some inexplicable reason and he was going to stay the hell out of the gardens without a Malfoy in attendance to shoo the evil things away from him. Why this was Harry couldn't say beyond that Lucius may very well have trained them to be attack birds. Harry wasn't aware there had been a problem with them before, so perhaps they had only been trained to attack Harry Potter. He certainly wouldn't doubt it.

Draco, though, insisted it was an inherent problem with Parselmouths and certain types of the nobler birds. He claimed that legends depicted the Naga and Phoenix races as enemies for a reason and Harry ought to beware of using his forked tongue around them. Voldemort had apparently killed scores of the snowy feathered things while he was here and the Malfoys had been forced to keep them caged to save their lives, as they had attacked the snaky bastard in a very kamikaze like way for no readily apparent reason. Harry asked why owls and Fawkes seemed to be alright with him, and Narcissa had replied that there was a question of nobler breeding with the owls, and that Phoenixes were considerably more intelligent, and could tell the difference between a Naga and a Parselmouth easily. Peacocks on the other hand, much as Lucius loved them, were dumb as shite despite their pedigree.

The second thing he learned was that the Manor didn't have modern plumbing. This had come as a surprise to him, since Harry hadn't noticed it until he finally realized he hadn't seen a tap in the whole place one morning while washing his hands in a basin. The lavatory, which had a pull-handle and a tank filled manually from the top, looked very much like some of the models in Hogwarts, only without the little pipe coming from the wall, so he hadn't noticed it. The same conveniences were available, but the objects in question (toilets, wash basins, baths, etc…) were filled by elves that Harry never actually saw, or the objects themselves filled via water replicating charms. When Harry wanted a bath (there were no showers) he would go in to find the tubs already filled and ready. The absence of an actual spout had simply not occurred to him since he'd not had to use one, and draining the bath in the Wizarding World involved a simple banishing charm that, by now, Harry could do wandless. Even the tubs that were filled by plumbing usually had no drain unless it was a Muggle model.

After asking curiously about it he had been told there was a Ewery, or a water office near the back of the Manor. Here there was a small group of elves whose exclusive duty was to keep the manor supplied with fresh water from the nearby aquifer well. Objects like bathtubs and basins were charmed to heat to an appropriate temperature when water was put into them, negating the need for heaters and such. The Malfoys refused to update to modern plumbing because the pipes and things would have been unsightly and required extensive renovations that may have destroyed portions of the Manor they would like to keep intact, like secret passageways and storage areas. Harry had thought back to how the pipes and such crawled along the walls sometimes in Hogwarts, and agreed that it would have taken away from the elegance of the place. The Manor, quite simply, had not been built to accommodate pipes; it was too old. It seemed an awful lot of work for the elves, but Harry had to admit it was a good reason, and so long as they were following the laws in regard to their servants there was no cause for him to complain about it.

The third and most important thing, in Harry's mind, was that reporters, journalists, admirers/stalkers, gifts that were cursed, gifts that weren't cursed, and even several Aurors couldn't get past the wards of the Manor and to Harry at all hours of the night anymore. Ginny had commented several times that Harry would already be practiced at waking up at all hours to feed and change little ones as a consequence of being famous. Malfoy Manor, however, was one heck of a private Estate and had been better warded than the actual Ministry. Once this had been established Harry gleefully assisted in reinforcing them on the waxing moon until they shimmered on a hairline at the ground where the wards met the earth. Draco and Lucius had thanked him for helping, but had not mentioned that it was likely the strongest the wards had ever been. Harry didn't usually brag or show off, but he was powerful. It had actually made the Malfoys dizzy as he stood in the casting circle with them at the center of the property as they had raised the magic to shield the home as was their duty. Draco, being neither as strong as Harry nor as experienced as his parents, had almost fainted from the force of it.

It didn't take long for Harry to grow more comfortable being outside due to the wards keeping him obscured from prying eyes. Though he was unable to enjoy the gardens, he did enjoy the two roof terraces on either side of the Library. One could get there through the stairway by the State Rooms (the annoyingly extravagant rooms the Manor's most important guests stayed in, like a Royalty or Voldemort), or by the second floor of the library on either side of the walkway going round it. There were other ways to get there, but Harry didn't have access.

Draco's rooms (which Harry was absolutely NOT allowed to call the Nursery despite that being the proper name for the children's rooms) had an office that was available through a spiral stairway in the back of his bedchamber, which was inside a pavilion on the roof. Harry had not been inside, but he HAD found the Manor's layout in the Library, so he knew where everything was for the most part at least. He wondered if the high pointed roof on each pavilion was open as they were in the Long Gallery or obscured by a lower ceiling. Certainly the large angled ceiling in the Library was, in Harry's opinion, simply awesome. It sounded excellent in there when it rained. Every drop echoed until it became the most relaxing white noise and Harry had taken to reading every time there was a storm, though he usually ended up falling asleep.

He and the Malfoys were actually getting along far better than he had expected under the circumstances. Harry had anticipated a lot of rage from Lucius and Draco over his deal with the lady of the house. However, Hermione was proven correct in every aspect of the social ideals of Pure-Blood traditionalists. This was, to them, a business arrangement. So long as Harry fulfilled his end of the bargain there would be no hard feelings. Being the type of person who would easily get jealous over such things if it had been his wife or mother, Harry was experiencing a bit of culture-shock in that department. Draco was mostly tolerant of him and unless there was a legitimate reason, Harry was mostly ignored. The youngest Malfoy spent a lot of his time in his rooms anyway, still hovering between sick and well, and Harry had learned to stop asking about him. The subject was apparently taboo in the house, and nobody would discuss it with him. He assumed it had something to do with the family's refusing to acknowledge weakness in any way. Lucius avoided Harry completely unless they were meeting for meals three times a day as the probation demanded. Harry was certain the man wasn't up to anything. He could tell how glad he was to be nearby and available to assist with his son's wellbeing and enjoying Narcissa's company when she wasn't occupied by searching for the solution to Harry's dilemma.

Aside from the mild conversations at breakfast, lunch and tea, Harry let them all be.

He had been keeping in regular contact with his friends for the past month from his post. Every once in a while Harry would supervise Lucius as one or the other went on his errands, but for the most part both men were content to stay within the Manor Grounds, which were extensive enough to comfortably encompass even Harry's occasional broom flights. Rather than risk going to another Pub and having a row that might put their arrangement in jeopardy Harry had been given the use of the Welcoming Parlour/Reception Hall/whatever they called it, on the first floor to entertain his friends in. Harry just knew it as the room everybody flooed in from, since it had the networked fireplace. As it was clear on the other side of the Manor from the Drawing Room even Hermione had come by a few times to drink with them, discuss what his issues might be, and hit Harry with books. Harry had purchased his own drinks rather than use any of the stuff in the liquor cabinet, which Draco had insisted tersely was called a 'Buttery'.

All in all it was a rather good deal, Harry had to admit. He wasn't being antagonized by the family he would be sharing his child's mother with, Narcissa would get to spend time with her second baby for a few years before they would be moving with Harry at the end of Lucius's probation (not that Harry would deny her access regardless, she would still be the child's mother after all), Harry got shielded from media attack while he had some precious time with his first child before he moved on to work whatever career he would eventually choose. Above all else maybe he'd have a good influence on the Malfoy family's outdated ideals while he was there. Harry sure as hell wasn't going to let his heir grow up thinking like a Malfoy, so maybe he could get the Malfoys to start thinking like a Potter, if only a little.

The thought made him smile while he went down the stairs past the portraits of Malfoys past, most of whom were very fond of him now. It seemed like they didn't get spoken to very much, but Harry's curiosity had him asking everyone about their various time periods, how they had come into the family, what had happened in their lives and such things. Even the blondes were beginning to respect him to a degree, if only because Harry had defeated the snaky arse that kept incinerating them if they spoke to each other too loud a year ago. Being able to speak to the Parselmouth Matriarch Alphonsine Malfoy in a language she clearly honored didn't hurt. The only portrait that refused to speak to Harry was Draco's twelve-year-old one at the top of the stairs. He was a right little git.

As he neared the dining room Harry began to feel the atmosphere grow thicker. Something was amiss, and the portraits were whispering among themselves. Something about Narcissa's Cabinet and… Merlin. Just as he passed into the Dining room from the corridor off the stair, Zither appeared in front of him. It had happened so quickly that he startled back, afraid he would walk right over her.

"Begging Master Harry Potter's pardon, Zither is," she began, ", but the Master and Mistress will not be attending tea today. Mistress asks your pardon for wanting the master to herself for the evening, and says the lunch meeting will have to do for today." She wrung her ear a bit and stared balefully at him. "Is that alright, sir?"

Harry let out a breath and smiled. She just wanted her husband to herself for the evening? That was all? "Yeah, that's fine," he assured the elf. "I know she wants to fulfill the oath and all, but the woman needs a break, and I only need to meet Lucius once a day at least. They're fine." He knelt down next to the relieved looking elf. "How are you feeling? Have you been meeting Hermione?"

Zither pouted up at him. "Miss Granger is having Zither meet her once a week, Master Potter."

Harry nodded. "Bossy isn't she?"

Zither almost answered him, but snapped her mouth shut and bit her lip. "That isn't a nice thing to say."

Harry laughed. "No, it isn't. But it's true, isn't it?"

"I is not to be answering that, if you don't mind, sir." she said as if scolding him.

"Yeah, that's fair. You look healthier though. I'm glad you're meeting her." Harry stood and gave her a little bow, which the elf returned awkwardly. "I'll just have tea on my own, then."

* * *

Narcissa gripped her hands tightly. She had done everything she could to study this and be certain of their options. There were none. Either she were to die for failing to fulfill her Vow with Potter or she and her husband were to be his; there was no middle-ground to be had. She had not the fortitude to be strong in her explanation his time. She had knelt as Lucius's chair as she had done before and said it all straightforward as fact. There was no point in sugar-coating it, presenting it as a simple contract, and maintaining composure to keep him calm this time. he would not be calm; she knew that. It would only embarrass him if she were calm and he was not.

Lucius let himself fall weakly into his chair. Narcissa eyed him knowingly as his hands clenched until white on the arms and the fabric ripped under his nails. "I cannot." His words were tight and laced with pain. He began to tremble. "I _cannot_."

"You are strong, Lucius. You have survived much worse than a Master like Potter. You will do so again." She kept her tone light and steady, though her hands shook. "We have not a choice, that is true. We are his slaves already without the power in place. He will not allow our escape, and we could not if we tried."

Lucius put his face in his hands and made a frightened sound, cringing. Narcissa came forward and held him, stroking through his hair. He rested his head on her breast and took slow, deep breaths as he tried to compose himself. "I will be with you. Potter is many things; powerful, dominating, obsessive... he resembles the Dark Lord in many ways. It is truly alarming to see the similarities between them, and you've every right to fear." She was forced to pause in her speech when her husband turned his face into her breast to take comfort in her scent and the feel of her skin. His hands wandered under her skirt and played upon her legs, and she shivered. "I do not believe he means to be cruel to us. We've been chosen to give him a family. You know I wanted more children, though the political mess we were in made it unwise. And while I had hoped to live out my days with you alone as my husband, I will not enjoy them if you are taken from me."

"No... I would not survive Azkaban again." Lucius drew back and rested his head against the back of his armchair weakly. "Potter is the only salvation I have."

Narcissa was familiar with her love's moods and tolerated his fretting. She was glad for the good match they had made; Lucius was the absolute picture of cool arrogance and propriety in public and Narcissa matched him. She was the strength he relied on in private to keep up appearances .

Draco's failure had cost them dearly, though they would never tell him of it. Narcissa was still paying for her vow with Severus that had been discovered after the man had fulfilled it. That punishment had left her with a deep and incurable pain in her left leg, as the Cruciatus had been held far too long. She had not lost her sanity, but her nerves were permanently damaged. It was a wonder she did not limp.

Lucius... their Lord had given him to Greyback to punish as he pleased. It had been Draco's punishment to suffer, yet Lucius would have none of it. He had begged _shamelessly_ until the Dark Lord had relented, and allowed Lucius to suffer it in his son's stead. Their only saving grace was that Draco had not yet reproduced, and Narcissa had reasoned that risking Draco's life on the punishment, and it would be a loss to the Pure-Blood gene pool. There were so few of them left and Greyback was known to become a bit overzealous in his games. The likelihood Draco would have died was high. Especially since, as the beast had put disgustingly to Weasley in the Drawing Room, "_Reckon she'll give me have a bit of the girl when she's finished with her? I'd say I'll get a bite or two, wouldn't you, ginger?_"

Narcissa had not known initially what had transpired in the Buttery when the beast had dragged her Husband pleading through the doors and shut them, but she would never forget his screams. It was only weeks later when they had been trying to comfort one another late at night that he had failed to perform, and broken down. The things he told her... it had been worse than a simple torture could ever have been. Greyback was an expert in torment and he had broken Lucius thoroughly. Even now she had to be gentle with him in their intimacy. Lucius had to be allowed to make the initial contact, as having contact forced upon him only made him uneasy.

"Potter does not know the reason you fear him so. Lucius, I believe it would be beneficial to tell him."

"No!" he argued immediately, his entire form tightening like a bowstring. "He will use it against me!"

"Tell him," she repeated gently. "I do not believe he intends us misery or harm. Our new Lord is not as the old. When you tell him why his presence pains you, he will be lenient. Simply ask."

"What of our son?" he demanded, gripping her shoulders. "He has already made himself sick worrying over me! If he discovers-"

"He will not," Narcissa assured him. She gripped his hair gently and urged him into a kiss that he leapt into desperately. By the time he pulled back she was breathless. "Mr. Potter won't tell Draco if we beg his silence in the matter. I believe we may have to explain why. He is persistent in knowing things, especially since his experiences being herded to his death by Dumbledore and dear Severus and the Order of the Phoenix. Yes, he will want to know why."

Lucius shivered. He leaned back in his chair and opened his arms to his wife, and she smiled and sat in his lap. They kissed once more until she had to shift to keep from making him uncomfortable from her weight in his lap, and ended up straddling him. "If we must," he agreed. "I won't risk you. Not for anything... except perhaps Draco's life. Nothing else."

"As it should be," she agreed.

The evening was spent comforting one another and planning their explanation to Potter. They were not unintelligent and anticipated he would not take well to the news, and presenting the situation to him in a light that he would accept was difficult. No... Potter would not like having them as his... what word to use? Servants? Vassals? Retainers? Thegns? He would approve of none of them. Not if they were to be intimate and have a child. Potter was, if nothing else, unfailingly kind. He would likely prefer another term, despite his definite possession of them. That word, though, they were uncertain of.

'Lovers' was a word they reserved exclusively for each other.

Potter couldn't have it.


	9. Cause and Effect

Cherrie-san and evil genus: Now I have the image of Link from the Ocarina of time, fighting Cuckoos. And now Voldemort in a green Death Eater cap fighting off white Peacocks. Damn you. T.T;;

Cherrie-san and BAFan: It's pretty graphic, and we'll get there soon. I had to examine Greyback's character more closely to come up with the answer of Lucius's torture, which sickened even me, and I've written some pretty icky things. I won't disappoint.

Tommy14: Thank you! After designing my own model of the manor since an official one was never created (based off of Hardwick Hall, which was used in the movies) I couldn't help but fall in love with the place. I knew Harry would too.

Draco had been Harry's only company of late. Since the night that Zither had come to him with Narcissa's message about wanting Lucius to herself for the evening he hadn't seen much of them beyond the breakfast meetings. Per Lucius's Probation he had to check in with Harry once a day and let him know if he intended to venture off the property so that Harry could go with him to supervise. That he had done without fail. After that, though, he and Narcissa had run off together to do their own things in the Manor. Harry wondered if they were just enjoying themselves before Narcissa's impending pregnancy, though if they had discovered anything about how to solve his problem they certainly hadn't told him yet.

The cryptic questions Draco kept asking him were getting annoying. Inquiries about what Harry thought of Lucius, whether he thought they might learn to get along, how he would feel about boarding on the property after the Potter heir arrived, if it would bother him to do so while Draco pursued a match, and other such things. If the youngest Malfoy was trying to get Harry to officially join the family somehow to raise their prestige in the Wizarding world after the war it was admittedly a good effort on his part, though since Narcissa was married to Lucius that would delegate Harry her Consort, and he was not going to have that. Draco's reply had been essentially that there was no shame in being a consort and Harry was thinking like a Muggle.

…fair enough. The git might have a point there. Harry hadn't encountered anyone who looked down on consorts, except those with Muggle backgrounds. It most often turned out to be a multiple spouse situation rather than a 'third wheel' thing in the long run if the consort stayed. Perhaps he was being a bit unreasonable there. Harry promised he would give it some thought, remembering to point out that Lucius was unlikely to find the idea appealing. Draco hadn't replied. Harry's answer seemed to satisfy him enough to stop bringing it up at tea every day, so Harry assumed he'd done enough dwelling on it.

He was, however, dwelling on being ignored. At first everyone had been meeting for meals three times a day besides the occasional day that Narcissa was simply too busy with her studies to attend. The three men had even gotten into civil conversations a time or two. Harry had gone riding with Draco on both brooms and horses to pass the time out in the fields as Draco began to feel better. Lucius had tolerated Harry in the Library when they were in there at the same time and no battles had broken out. In fact they seemed to get along very well, even when they spoke despite Harry's feeling Lucius was being very careful to subtly antagonize him. But for the past week now Harry had seen neither of the Malfoy parents outside of a quick breakfast and they were off again. It was beginning to get irritating.

Now, just this morning, Harry had noticed books of Law being flown in from the Ministry. He recognized the wrappings. It looked as if Lucius was assisting Narcissa in her studies. He hoped that was all they were doing, though. Merlin help him, but he'd gotten to be a little suspicious after the war. He always thought people were up to something, making plans behind his back, even though he most often turned out to be wrong. But he was no longer a child and he wasn't about to be walked on or manipulated by people he'd rescued time and time again with no gratitude forthcoming. He wasn't about to investigate it and risk a fight, but he didn't exactly trust them either.

These thoughts halted instantly when Harry arrived in the Kitchen to swipe something to snack on, and he saw Zither hunched over a silver spoon that was halfway polished. She looked to be in pain.

"Zither! Are you alright?" Harry knelt beside her instantly.

She took a moment to answer. "Yes-Master-Harry-Potter," she ground out haltingly.

He winced when she let out a little groan. "You're in pain. Is something wrong or…"

"No," she said tightly, relaxing only a little. "Nothing is wrong. Zither is doing her chores if Master Harry Potter does not mind."

It was clear dismissal, and Harry instantly knew she was in labor. If she had been able to do so by rank she probably would have been chasing him out of the room and throwing things by now for disturbing her during a contraction. He waited a moment until her features relaxed before trying again. "I don't mean to be rude, and you probably know what you're doing a lot better than I do, but is there anything I can do for you? Should you, erm… lie down or something?"

She goggled at him. "No, sir! You is not doing things for Zither! I is doing things for you! If-"

"No," Harry said carefully. "You're in no condition. Take care of yourself just now, alright?" She bit her trembling lip and Harry got the feeling he was doing this all wrong. "Alright, you don't have to stop just… just do what you need to. I'll be back. With that he fled to the parlour with the networked fireplace. He had no idea what to do in this situation. When he had asked the Malfoys about it they had said the elves always took care of themselves, and not to worry about Zither. She would handle it. But damn it, Harry couldn't just sit back and do nothing!

Harry stuck his head in the flames and shouted out as carefully as he could in his agitated state. "Mrs. Weasley! Mrs. Weasley!"

"Harry, dear! What's the matter?" Molly came around the corner almost covered in flour, wiping her dough-covered hands on her patched apron. Ginny followed her an instant later holding a book that Harry assumed had recipes in it. There was no flour on her, but she did look as if she'd burned her hand a bit. "Arthur is at work and the boys have all gone off somewhere. We're all you've got, I'm afraid."

Harry calmed instantly. He had never known his mother, and he was pretty sure she wouldn't have turned out like Molly Weasley. But he did know that he always felt safer in the presence of the Weasley matron. She had both a firm hand and a caring disposition, and never failed to come through when friends or family were concerned. And most importantly to Harry at this juncture; she had borne over half a dozen children. If anyone he knew would be able to help him, it would be her without a doubt.

For her part, Ginny was practical and steadfast in moving forward no matter the situation, and would do anything she could to follow her mother's instructions and help Harry in any way.

"Actually, you're both perfect, I think. Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, I have a problem. Zither- one of the House-Elves here - is in labor. She refuses to stop working. I don't want to leave her alone but I don't know what to do either. Could you-?"

"If she wants to work, let her work, Dear. It could be helping to distract her from the pain. Believe me; I did a lot of things while the twins were arriving because sitting still only made it worse. Arthur was having fits at me about it, just like you are now." Molly cast spells on herself to dismiss all of the flour and dough, then tossed a preservation charm behind her on whatever she had been working on while grabbing towels and things out of the small closet near the kitchen.

Harry smiled at that. The woman had incredible aim, and he had seen her shoot behind her several times in the battle of Hogwarts to cast shields on people nearby without missing a beat in her own fight. Harry was pretty sure it had less to do with being a skilled duelist and more to do with trying to cook and clean while casting charms to catch children falling down the stairs, trying to play in the fire, picking fights with Lawn Gnomes, picking fights with each other, fix Percy's glasses, sew up trousers, heal scrapes and bruises and fix messy hair. Harry knew little about the Auror training program because he had not joined, but he did know this after getting to know Molly Weasley: if he wanted an equivalent training regimen in Aim, Endurance and Marathon Casting all he would have to do is have a lot of children. Molly Weasley could out-duel any Auror, and they damned well knew it.

This explained why nobody doubted she had eliminated Bellatrix Lestrange. Not for a second.

"Is there anything I can do?" Ginny asked.

"Get a bag together, Dear. Here." Mrs. Weasley handed her daughter the things she'd been gathering. "Put the kettle on and purify the water in it. Once it boils, come through with it and cool it to room temperature. Get a nice bit of fabric for her to wear after the birth and make sure it's very clean. She'll be upset if we give her clothes, so find a nice tablecloth or something that will at least resemble a dress. I won't have her wearing anything dirty. Get a bit of spare fabric and make a sling for her to carry the pup in-"

"Pup?" Harry asked curiously.

"Elf babies are called pups, Harry," the woman told him simply. "And get a smaller blanket from the chest I keep all of the baby things in. Ginny, go."

"Right," Ginny nodded and ran off to do as she had been told.

"Harry, go to Zither and tell her not to eat anything. Go and make some ice and chip it into small bits the way you used to do in Potions class, if you remember. Severus always did know just the right size for this. If she gets thirsty let her eat those – don't give her any water. We'll be through in just a moment."

Harry nodded and did so. When he went to the kitchen he had a brief moment of panic when Zither wasn't there, but the small amount of clean water on the floor and leading to the door told him that she had gone outside. Zither must have cleaned up the bit of fluid after her water broke on her way out. Confident she wasn't silly enough to leave the yard, Harry did as Molly had told him to and cast the freezing charm and chipped up about a quart of ice exactly like Snape had taught him. He had never thought anything he learned in Potions would have practical applications, but he had been proven wrong on that time and again, as cooking in without electricity required all the temperature controls and things he had been taught there as well. Honestly, the only thing he had learned in Potions was how to cook.

When that was done Harry filled a cup with them and then he went outside. Zither was kneeling near the herb garden picking things, and would pause every once in a while and groan quietly to herself before beginning to work again. Harry could tell she hadn't noticed him yet and stood nearby until she stopped groaning.

"Zither?" he asked gently.

She startled and looked to him with wide eyes. "Yes, Master Harry Potter? Can Zither do something for you?"

"I've called a few friends to help you," he said to her apparent amazement. "They'll be here soon. I've been scolded about telling you to sit still though. I'm sorry. I didn't know that work was helping you. You can do it if you want, just don't tax yourself." At her nod he continued. "I've been asked to tell you not to eat anything as well."

She sniffed and went back to her work, wincing a bit. "Yes, sir. I know that, sir."

"I've brought some ice for you," he said and held it out to her. "If you get thirsty, eat some of these, alright?" She didn't take it, but nodded. A moment later she began to shake, so Harry put his hand on her back and rubbed gently.

"You is helping," she whined miserably, wiping her eyes.

Harry drew his hand back. "Er… would you like me to go away? I don't know if you consider this a woman's thing or not… but I don't want to leave you alone. My friends are on the way, though! They're both women, so-."

She shook her head furiously until her ears slapped the sides of her face. "Don't go, Sir. You must be doing what you wants. But Zither is confused. Why is you helping?"

Harry, honestly confused, took a moment to think. What was the right thing to say?

"I cans have a pup by myself if you have things to do," she said quietly, interrupting his thoughts.

"That's what you're worried about? That I think you're an inconvenience or something?" At her nod Harry fought not to shout and keep his voice calm. "I couldn't think you're an inconvenience. You work very well, and you take care of everyone but yourself. I only wish you'd do something more to keep yourself healthy, alright? And I... I knew Dobby. He was a good friend of mine. He worked in the Manor too and-"

"F-friends!?" she squeaked. A moment later she tensed and whined.

Harry wisely kept his mouth shut, remembering Molly's instructions to Bill for when Fleur went into labor. 'Never talk when she can't - it'll just make her angry and she'll kick you out or throw things. Be silent when she is.' When she calmed down, Harry nodded. "Yes. He saved my life, and a bunch of my friends, too" Harry resisted the urge to say, 'that's how he died.' Now wasn't the time for such thoughts. Stop at 'saved'. Only say good things, even if the story was incomplete. Good plan.

Zither shook her head and fell back on her rump, then continued doing it. "Wizards can'ts be friends with elves!" she exclaimed fiercely.

"Yes, I can." Harry pouted at her, as if she were a child that had just told him he couldn't stand on his head. "I'll be friends with any being or creature that will have me."

While Zither spluttered and gibbered at him nonsensically, Molly and Ginny arrived.

"The ice is too big," Molly fussed at him immediately. "Go do it again."

This time when he tried to take the ice out to them several peacocks chased him back in. Ginny had to go and get the cup from him since he'd been absolutely forbidden from stunning the evil things. She assured him that they'd be fine, he had done enough, and he could go and tell the Malfoys about it all if he liked; that way they wouldn't be surprised if any of them went out into the garden. Harry needed permission from them before his guests were to spend more than an evening in the Manor anyway. It would only be polite to inform Draco at least.

That is… if he could find any of them.

Asking the portraits did him no good. Like him or not it seemed to be a game with them to lead Harry astray. When he had first arrived in the manor Harry had looked specifically for the Manor outline in the Library because they kept giving him horrifically incorrect directions. A nighttime venture to the kitchens had left him in the great hall behind the screens, which made sense, and then to a closet, which didn't. He had quickly stopped relying on them to guide him. Of course he first visited Narcissa's cabinet. To Harry a 'cabinet' was a thing you kept things in, but it seemed to be an old name for a Lord or Lady's personal room equivalent to a 'man cave'. The one room they had utterly to themselves in the entire house. There was no answer at the door so he moved on to the Library, again with no results. He already knew they weren't in the parlour or kitchen or garden. The drawing room was also unoccupied.

Harry searched in frustration. This place was too big, and every time he actually wanted to find someone he never could, but when he wanted to be alone he inevitably couldn't get away from them: they stumbled upon one another every four minutes. He searched the pavilions and terraces, knocked on Draco's door, knocked on the master bedchamber's door, listened at the entrance to the Cellar, called from the front porch, gave up in the dining room, and swore and swore and swore.

He wouldn't call an elf to help him because Zither seemed to have been designated his personal servant while he was there, and he was afraid she really would come if he called. Defeated and worried about Zither, he lay his head down on the table and fretted for a while.

Then he heard whispering.

Of course – he hadn't checked the ceremonial hall, or more accurately the funeral parlour. Though what they would be doing there he couldn't guess. There was a landing just past the dining room where one could look over the rail to view a gathering from above since that room was open to the second floor, in the event too many people attended to fit in the lower level. The sitting area was clear enough for him to get to the landing without being heard and he carefully leaned over the railing to see what they were doing. Indeed, Lucius and Narcissa were speaking in hushed tones, books of law lain out over the altar where a coffin would normally be placed.

Harry had seen the books concerning guardianship, surrogacy, adoption and the like. The Ministry kept books on different subjects of law color-coded for the most part to make things easier to find. These were not those books. The ones Harry had seen relevant information in were yellow. These were brown with green trim, books Harry had seen when he inherited the Black vaults and properties, and when the deeper levels of the Potter vaults had been opened to him after graduation from Hogwarts. They were books concerning property law. Everything from gold to land and elves to vassals and custody of children was in there.

Harry saw red.

He didn't know what they were doing, but he didn't like it. Trying to weasel out of the deal would be supremely unwise of them, or trying to find a way so that they could keep the baby and leave Harry out of it. The possibilities whirled in his head. He was certainly powerful enough to warrant a Pure-Blood line trying to steal his offspring for their own in the hopes of significantly increasing their power. His temper flared and, taking hold of the railing with one hand, Harry leapt over it and clear to the first floor.

His robe billowed around him as he landed, boots making a loud bang as he hit the wood despite his magic flaring keeping him perfectly protected from the impact. Both blondes whirled around, startled and gasping.

"What are you doing?" he demanded hotly. Harry didn't feel it, but he could see his robes billowing a bit, sense his hair wafting in the ethereal wind his magic was creating in his anger. His eyes were likely glowing as well, as he'd been told they had while he battled Voldemort. Lucius and Narcissa didn't answer immediately. They looked afraid.

Harry didn't care.

"I know what those books are! I've seen them before! What are you doing?" he demanded again.

Narcissa got hold of herself enough to answer. "We are reviewing the laws concerning Lords and Vassals, and the effects a Vassal's Pledge would have on their property when a new Lord is introduced."

Harry didn't process that well. "What does that have to do with the matter at hand?"

"Everything, Mr. Potter," Lucius said slowly. "If you would please listen-"

Harry's gaze immediately locked onto the older man and Lucius sharply recoiled. The tone infuriated him despite what Lucius likely intended it to do. Harry had heard that weak, pleading tone before. He knew he was probably a bit scary right now, but how dare Lucius Malfoy talk to him like he was facing Voldemort! Harry wasn't about to Crucio them or anything! There would certainly be dire consequences if what Harry thought was happening was actually happening, but he wasn't a monster.

"I realize this looks bad, Mr. Potter, but we will explain," Narcissa said quickly.

When Harry looked to her he realized she was looking to his hand. His wand was drawn.

Oh.

His anger dissolved immediately. He stuck his wand back in his pocket and ran a hand through his hair which, thankfully, was no longer blowing from the non-felt wind. He sincerely hoped his eyes were normal too.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "Sorry," he said again more firmly. "I saw those books and thought-" Harry paused. "What are you doing looking up property laws and Lords and stuff? You don't have a Lord. Not anymore, I mean. Or are you worried Voldemort might have named an heir or something, that they could take your land away?"

Narcissa and Lucius shared a look, though only she seemed to relax a little. Lucius retreated behind the altar and sat down in the chair there, looking very tired. There were bags under his eyes and lines of worry on his brow.

"May I request you keep a handle on your temper while this is all explained, Mr. Potter?" she asked lightly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. I was out of line there, not even letting you explain before throwing a fit. That was childish of me. I apologize, Narcissa, Lucius." He bowed slightly. "And you can both call me 'Harry', remember? We've been over it."

"If that is your wish," Lucius nodded to him. "Though I wonder how long that will last."

"Look," Harry sighed, ", you're both acting weird. If we're going to have to go through some long explanation of your research can we at least do it somewhere more comfortable? Less overall centered on death? I just searched the whole bloody manor for you two and you're holed up in the funeral parlour? What is that about?"

Narcissa flicked her wand and had the books hover after her. "We were discussing the matter with Lucius's father." She motioned to a portrait on the wall of a man that almost exactly mirrored the man sitting under it, though the hairline was receded further. Apparently he had been the last to rest in this room on the altar, as his portrait was still hung in the main display area.

Harry and Abraxas shared a glare of mutual dislike. "You lot have very stubborn genes," he observed.

"You're one to talk, Potter." Abraxas snarked at him.

"Yes, well-" Harry paused and palmed his face sheepishly, ",that's a good point."

"Indeed." Abraxas snorted.

Narcissa motioned to Lucius and the man stood, bowing his head respectfully to his father's portrait before they began to file out into the corridor. "Where would you like to discuss this, Mr- Harry. Forgive me." Narcissa said pleasantly.

"You know the place better than I do," Harry shrugged. "Would you choose?"

"The State Rooms would be appropriate," Lucius observed, ", as you should be moving into them at your leisure."

"Why would I do that?" Harry asked as they began to ascend the staircase. "The room I'm in is fine, and the loo isn't too far. I'd like to be closer to the roof and all, but it isn't necessary to put me in that bloody huge room." Harry didn't know much about the state rooms besides they were enormous, and Voldemort had stayed there as they were usually reserved for only the most important guests.

Rather than argue, Lucius switched tactics. "I noticed you seem to enjoy the rain in the Library. A similar sound occurs in the state rooms during a storm. There is also a private bath and office, so that you may continue any work you need to do during your stay. The size would also serve well if you prefer to bottle feed your heir yourself and connect more personally by having the crib near you in that manner, rather than have Narcissa breastfeed. It would help create an early, strong bond. These are all your choices, of course, I am merely suggesting."

Harry thought about it as they ascended the massive stair. Lucius was being overly polite for some reason, but it sounded and felt respectful or at least sincere in nature. Despite his suspicions Harry was a bit flattered. Honest courtesy hadn't been something Lucius had offered him, ever. If nothing else this would be an interesting meeting. "Alright, those are all fair points. I'll move upstairs if that's what you want."

Lucius relaxed a little at last, having been tight and nervous since Harry had leapt off the landing and startled them so horribly. Harry perceived the man was giving him a peace offering of sorts for not including him in their findings sooner. Harry had to admit he had a bit of a temper and could be more intimidating than he meant to be.

"Does this mean," Harry asked hopefully, ", that you've solved my problem?"

"Yes, Harry." Narcissa swallowed. "Yes it does. But it is a long explanation, and not all of us are as well rested as you are. May we be silent for now and take refreshments in your new apartments before beginning?"

Harry nodded. Only he and Draco were used to climbing all these stairs, he'd noticed. Lucius and Narcissa lived on the second floor and tended to get a bit winded halfway through the ascent to the third, especially since the floors got teller the further up in the building one was. "That's reasonable, yeah." As they fell into a comfortable silence Harry finally realized why the staircase felt so odd today.

The portraits weren't talking. They only watched as he went by. It was kind of eerie.


	10. The Truth of the Matter

Seraphwalker: Thanks. ^_^ I try to keep all of my storylines on increasing levels of development. Don't worry, I have two more great ones in the outline stages that'll be just as good or better than the two I have going on now.

Miriam1: Harry's reactions are a little hard to pin down until I'm actually writing the scene, so it's always a surprise to me too. It depends on the subtleties int he conversation, so the outline doesn't really do much more for me than tell me what the final result of the thought processes are.

Bownbey: Seers always do know more than they let on. ^_^

Cherrie-san: All members of the Anatidae family are evil, and we shall not forget this.

Lin: Stress is a huge factor in this, but it'll start balancing out soon.

* * *

Harry refused to take another step. The State Rooms was actually one enormous room with different sections to it if one didn't include the office, which was in one of the roof pavilions up a spiral stair. Even the bathtub and such were all in one area that was screened off from the rest of the chamber, but those could easily be removed if one wished, or even linked together to form a sort of wall. The windows were high and framed by elaborately embroidered curtains that would block out all sunlight if closed for a daytime rest. The best of everything in the Manor at large was located here, from the plush carpet to the ceiling art. Harry wasn't one for opulence to begin with, so the whole thing made him feel out of sorts. The great chamber had been politely offered, though, and he had accepted. He would simply have to get used to the ridiculousness of it all.

That wasn't what was making his hair stand up.

It was the energy in the room he couldn't stand.

"I apologize, Harry," Narcissa said behind him. Both she and Lucius were further back in the Long Gallery and away from the door. No doubt they could feel it too, and they were both clearly uncomfortable. "We were unaware of this problem. Only the elves have been here to clean since-" she trailed off when Harry put his hand up.

"I'll fix it," Harry assured them. "Just wait a moment." He stepped into the beautiful, brightly lit, enormous room and felt as if he had stepped into a dense and toxic fog.

Harry knew that very powerful people and the magic they carried, tended to permeate the places they lived in with their personality and feelings. The Headmaster's office at Hogwarts still had the shimmery, floating feel of Dumbledore about it, though Minerva's oak-like strength was beginning to mix with it. Likewise the Burrow felt happily frantic and buzzed with the zippy yet gentle air of Molly Weasley. For the most part the Manor felt at peace and relieved, though mildly depressed.

THIS room though… it felt thick and dense. Heavy. Malevolent. Paranoid. Someone like Voldemort had a rather intense personality and power, and it had left its mark. Harry's eyes and senses perceived different things. He saw a lovely, clean, welcomingly bright room while feeling like he was trying to walk and breathe through a room full of black, rancid pond scum. He shuddered in revulsion, but made his way to the center of the space regardless. There, he closed his eyes and entered a light meditation.

There were a lot of ways to dispel energy like this. Some used brooms to symbolically sweep it out of the air and out the windows. Some absorbed it and put it into the ground by envisioning roots for it to travel down, or a shaft of light to send it skyward. Harry had his own way and it had never failed him. He planted his feet and took a deep, long, even breath, and allowed it to enter his lungs. At first it made him want to gag. He nearly did. He'd had too much of Voldemort's aftermath to get rid of to stop now, though, so he opened his eyes and blew out in what he saw as a thick, even column of billowing black smoke. He let the energy channel through him like a filter; passing out of him via this smoke to materialize outside where it dissipated like any other smoke would from a chimney. Breath by breath Harry took in, altered, and expelled whatever negativity he could sense about him or within him. As he continued the smoke he envisioned began to get lighter; not because he was deliberately changing the visualization, but because there was simply less negativity to color it.

He did this for fifteen minutes until he could breathe easily. The room was clean, the air was clear, and Harry had even dispelled some of his own frustration in the process. The very last remnant of Voldemort's stay was now cleansed from the Manor. When Harry finally opened his eyes it looked like the same room he had seen upon arriving, though now he could certainly live in it and rest well.

He smiled and turned to the two in the gallery. "Better?" He blinked in confusion when they stared blankly at him. "What?"

"You dispelled it so easily," Lucius observed. "How?"

Harry shrugged. "I think it has something to do with being familiar with it. I had a bond, intentional or not, with Voldemort for most of my life. Knowing how to manipulate his icky aura is just part of that, I guess. Experience."

"I see," Narcissa said slowly. "Are you weary? That must have taken a great effort. I expect a cleansing of that quality would have taken days for most anyone else."

He shook his head. "I'm fine. Come on, we've got things to discuss. Where should we sit?"

Lucius came in and motioned to a group of chairs that looked to be a breakfast nook close to the spiral stair in the back where the light from the windows shined pleasantly. When he snapped his fingers an elf Harry knew as a cranky one appeared to take Lucius's order. The man frowned. "Where is Zither?" he asked the elf. "She is Harry's servant on assignment."

"Oh!" Harry smacked himself in the forehead. "I forgot! Damn it… Mrs. Weasley and Ginny are here helping Zither in the garden. She's in labor."

Narcissa's brow furrowed. "Is there a problem?"

"I hope not. They're mostly there to keep her company, I expect."

"But why? The House-Elves have always handled such things on their own. It has never been an issue before." Narcissa said plainly.

Harry gaped at her a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to shout, but that had sounded horribly offensive to him; as if a mother was explaining to her child that the kitty could do this by itself and company wasn't needed. But that was an animal, and this was a Being they were discussing. A sentient creature that could think and feel and fear just like a human or goblin or centaur or… and Harry remembered the House-Elf heads mounted on the walls in the Black home and understood. She had been raised to believe that their servants were no better than livestock – not even on the level of pets that should be cared for. Most of the protesters of House-Elf Rights believed them to be no better than an infestation of cockroaches that just happened to clean and cook and wash laundry enough to justify postponing calling the exterminator. If Harry had been brought up that way he had no idea if he would think the same way on a deep level even if he intellectually knew better. That sure as hell didn't excuse it, but it gave him a moment to calm himself before lashing out. When he looked up the woman had realized her mistake and had the good sense to look ashamed of herself.

"That was wrong of me to say. Of course she would like company, just as I would," she admitted.

That sounded as if she meant it, but Harry was wary. Every time he started to get to know the Malfoys well enough to think they had evolved beyond the equivalent of greasing the social ladder to watch people slip off they managed to remind him that they'd all been raised to be arseholes. Lucius was not saying anything, but wasn't looking at them either. He told the elf that had appeared to bring them much the same order Narcissa had put in when they had made the vow, complete with alcohol. Harry wondered what they had to tell him if it required that preemptively rather than after the difficult part.

For the moment he allowed Narcissa's statement to drop. Despite having cleared Voldemort's remnants from the room, it suddenly felt tense again.

"What did you need to tell me? Are we going to need another surrogate?" he asked to change the subject. The tension that had followed her comment began to thicken rather than dissolve, and Harry frowned.

"No, Harry. The research required to diagnose the cause of your affliction was extensive, but eventually a solution was found that meets all the requirements of our vow." Narcissa said slowly.

"And why do you sound unhappy about it?" Harry pressed.

Lucius cleared his throat. "It is quite complicated. It would seem that not all of your ancestry is completely human in nature."

Harry's train of thought ground to a screeching halt. "I'm sorry?"

Narcissa sighed. To Harry's great discomfort she slid to the floor and leaned her hands on Harry's knees the way she had explained the vow to Lucius those weeks ago. "What do you know about Cambion?"

Harry almost winced because he already had evidence of why Narcissa did this - it was to keep the person she was talking to calm while she explained something they wouldn't like. The word 'cambion' sounded familiar the same way anything else he had heard in school would, and he had no bad feelings about it in particular. Usually if a word he didn't recognize had a bad meaning he'd at least get a feeling about it even if he didn't remember what it was for. A look to Lucius being generally nervous about Harry's processing this question helped keep him grounded. If they thought he was going to throw a childish fit, they were overreacting. Narcissa had already said he would be able to have a baby with her, and that was good enough for him. So long as a sacrifice or something wasn't required (which he doubted since the vow had specified 'short of Dark Arts') Harry was alright.

"Nothing I can say beyond recognizing the word itself," he finally answered her.

"Then this will be a very long explanation. I trust you remember the tale of Merlin?" she pressed gently.

Harry snorted. "I'm a Wizard, aren't I?"

"That's starting a bit too early, Love," Lucius snorted.

Narcissa gave him a small amused smile and turned back to Harry with intent.

The explanation was a lot better than the ones Hermione offered him, which were wordy and entirely too detailed for his liking. All Harry ever needed was the main points, how it pertained to him directly, and he was fine with the little things taking care of themselves. Narcissa was very good at this. Her speeches seemed to take into account precisely the personality of her audience. Everything she had told him was done in an order and manner that made it easy for him to process one thing at a time, come to terms with it, and commit it to memory before moving on.

And after it all went through his head, Harry decided they were being entirely too dramatic about this.

The only terribly distressing thing about it all was that Harry now knew he had lost three parents instead of two. He wondered about his birth mother. If she had dark hair like his father. If that was where he had gotten his talents for non-verbal and wandless magic, which were things he was certain neither James or Lilly were particularly good at. He wondered if she knew loads about magical creatures and if that was where he had gotten his natural affinity for them. His father had been an animagus, but that wasn't the same thing. Likewise Harry's leadership skills seemed almost instinctive. James had been the head of a team of bullies in a very Dudley Dursley-like way, which always infuriated Harry when he thought about it, and Lily had a more passive 'let's talk it out' way of handling things. This third parent, his missing mother, had to have been the source or at least a contributing factor in Harry's extra set of leadership skills.

He wanted to know who she had been, and everything about her.

He WOULD find out.

In the meantime...

"Alright," he said. "So I had three parents, and it takes three people for me to make a baby. I get that. I'm not exactly human, which should have been obvious to begin with, really now that I think about it. It even makes sense that the ethereal nature of Cambion magic made my mother's sacrifice and my own stronger than it should have been. But, why are you two being so bizarre all of a sudden? It might be weird, but I don't think a one-off is much to get terribly concerned about. We're all adults here."

"Mainly because Lucius is not likely to be willingly compliant, Harry," Narcissa explained.

Lucius growled slightly and they looked to him; Harry with interest and Narcissa with concern. "You make it sound as if I will actively fight. That I will not do. Willing or not, refusing would mean your life. If giving Potter his heir meant I would have to die to fulfill your vow and keep you here, I would."

And now Harry had to say it out loud, didn't he? "Alright, I'll need further explanation if you're going to keep acting so off. At the moment it seems like you're both being entirely too dramatic about this whole thing. Why is my being a Cambion such a big deal? The vow hasn't changed, and there's only one more person involved in the actual baby-making process than we originally thought. So what's the problem?"

Lucius sat tightly in his chair. His 'slouch of villainy' as Harry liked to call it, was impossible to perform in his anxious state, so the man was simply sitting straight and watching carefully. Harry stood up and stopped by the fire. Narcissa sat in the chair Harry had been in, cleverly placed between Harry and her husband. She looked almost as frightened, though far more relaxed than he did. Whereas Lucius preferred to be as taught as a bowstring to spring to defend or launch himself away, Narcissa tended to remain relaxed so as to absorb and misdirect attacks more effectively.

Why they were afraid, Harry wanted to know. "I'm listening," he said calmly. "What is it that makes a one-off so difficult, Lucius?"

The blonde man took on a determined look for only a moment before he began to speak in short, blunt words. Clearly, Lucius had rehearsed it many times, cutting it to only the essential information. Fenrir Greyback had tortured him as punishment for his son's failure to identify Harry, his failure in keeping them all at the Manor until their Master arrived. It had traumatized him badly, Harry could tell by the way his body language and tone changed as if he couldn't control it - and Lucius was almost always very controlled.

Lucius did not falter until Harry asked for more detail. Then the man began to shake and would not look at anything but the floor as he wrung his hands tightly and told of monstrous things. He spoke of the way he had been subjected to being bent and positioned in ways the human body wasn't meant to until his joints and ligaments tore. He stammered through how the beast had clawed and bitten him. How the werewolf had actually swallowed the flesh he tore off, and how Lucius been forced to eat his own sick after he hadn't been able to handle the sound of his own flesh being chewed and vomited on the floor.

As Lucius neared the end of the tale he had to stop because his words were no longer coherent.

Now Harry understood why Lucius was so disturbed by the prospect of letting Harry touch him. It had little to do with Harry or sex and more to do with the touch itself.

The problem lie in Lucius's reaction to vulnerability. Fenrir hadn't raped Lucius, no, but he had _hurt_ him; made him feel powerless, unworthy, violated - no - desecrated, and intruded upon. The werewolf had left scars that Harry was sure to eventually see all over the body of a man that had once valued his beauty and instead now felt used and filthy. The damage was all the more severe for the fact of the man's bigotry. If the attack had been committed merely by an insane Witch or Wizard rather than by a werewolf then the prejudiced man may not have been so hurt and disgusted by the experience as he had been. It made no sense to Harry, it was absolutely ridiculous, but it was no less true and something Harry would have to take into account when any interaction with Lucius occurred.

Because now Harry was, in the eyes of Lucius Malfoy, a creature as well. As if the sex weren't enough of an attack on the deeply traumatized man's remaining pride; there would be a sense of manipulation and even thievery. Harry would be forcing pleasure during what Lucius would certainly see as a terrifying experience as well as taking his seed to use for his own purposes, no matter what those purposes may be.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. He needed to remember that Greyback was dead. Ron and Neville had brought him down at Hogwarts.

This actually irritated Harry now that he very much wanted to kill the cannibalistic bastard himself.

"I'm so sorry, Lucius." Harry received no answer. The older man was still staring off into space in the general direction of the floor, hair hanging into his face. Harry didn't get the feeling he was being ignored, merely that Lucius didn't trust himself to speak evenly just yet. Obligingly, Harry turned to Narcissa instead. "What about you and Draco?" he asked. "You've both been ill. Is that a result of my escape from the Manor too?"

Narcissa nodded. "My delicate health recently was a result of being under the Cruciatus for a length of time sufficient to cause physical damage. I was suffering a heightened sensitivity to pain, weak stomach, and an elevated startle reflex." She put up her hand for silence when Harry opened his mouth to speak. "I have recovered, and am well enough to bear your heir with no undue difficulty now."

"There aren't any other effects?" Harry pressed.

"None you need be concerned about." Harry almost asked her what she meant by that before she pressed on, and then he became too interested to interrupt. "Draco's illness is borne out of mourning. The punishment Lucius received was meant to be his. As any good father would, Lucius would not have it. He pleaded with the Dark Lord until he was allowed to suffer it in Draco's stead."

Lucius finally spoke. "If all my son suffered that night is mourning over my suffering, I am content enough."

Harry moved to sit again, this time in the seat beside Lucius, who gave him an annoyed look. "I heard once that Wizardkind are more affected by depression than Muggles, that the phrase 'dying of a broken heart' could actually apply."

Narcissa nodded. "Yes. It would seem, though, that Draco is recovering. Lucius's constant monitoring of him, the assurances that Lucius is recovering as well, are helping."

Harry was silent for a while, as were the Malfoys. He thought and weighed everything he had heard. Then, "There was no time set on our vow."

Lucius's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Harry said clearly, ", that if we've solved the question of how, we can postpone the actual conception a little while so that Lucius isn't so miserable. Of course, that'll require you actually spending more time than breakfast with me."

Narcissa gave Harry a pleased smile. "That sounds like a good idea."


	11. Facing Facts

evil genus: Yes, they're being big pansies about telling him that particular part of it.

Alex: You are completely correct.

Bre95: If Harry messed up Lucius's hair outside intimate situations I think there would be hell to pay. It's sacrosanct. ^_^;;

ladywatertiger: They're well into the healing stages now. Harry is, unfortunately, catching the tail end of it. Most of the freaking out happened when they had to deal with it themselves.

serenityselena: He's missing some vital information.

All: This chapter came out of nowhere. I typed it out in three hours while suffering insomnia, in one of those moments when whiskey just wasn't good enough to calm the nerves. Instead, I decided to have a cute, character-developing moment to inspire enough happy for me to sleep. I always intended Narcissa and Ginny to pow-pow, but just didn't get to it thus far. And I'm still unhappy with the sex scenes from The Last True Pure-Blood. Damn it.

* * *

It had been an interesting couple of days. Thus far neither Lucius nor Narcissa had told Harry about the mental change he would go through after he could sense a child on the way. Cambion were known to be possessive, almost intolerably so, and neither of the Malfoys wished to alert Harry to this problem just yet. He was the sort of man that would not like it, would try to stop himself acting naturally as his instincts would dictate, and fighting like that was likely to cause far more strife than simply accepting it. As such he was acting rather coolly about the whole thing. Far from the boisterous presence the Malfoys had expected of him, Harry was quite pleasant company. He would sit and read when they did, walks through the garden with little conversation took place quite often so long as Lucius shooed his pets away, he was not unreasonable in his expectations of how much time they would spend in one another's presence, and Harry had even taken an interest in Draco's health.

And Draco was, as Lucius had said, recovering. Narcissa suspected this was due to Harry's arrival in their lives, but said nothing of it. Doing so would only cause her son to give her more of his frustrating, knowing looks, and she was growing tired of them. The amount of things he knew that she didn't from the same symbols and sensations during divination was almost infuriating. Though, if he were so confident in Harry's presence in the house, she would eventually be as well. After a Lord like Voldemort, Narcissa and Lucius both severely doubted Harry could do worse.

That morning Zither had come to Narcissa in her Cabinet, pup slung in the bit of fabric the Weasley women had given her, to announce a fire-call. The elf was doing well, as was her pup, and Narcissa made a point of inquiring on both of their wellbeing before accepting the call. After all, Harry was going to be a part of their lives now and she needed to start behaving in a manner he would approve of if things were going to go smoothly. She wondered if Harry had seen the pup yet and the familiar green eyes she sported, or if Harry knew of Zither's relation to the elf Lucius had freed due to Harry's clever ruse with a sock. She supposed not, or he would have been fawning over the poor thing for being that strange elf Dobby's niece.

It was after getting to the linked fireplace that Narcissa realized her day had taken an odd turn. "Miss Weasley," she greeted with a small nod. "Harry is not available at the moment. He and Lucius have gone on an errand. I shall inform him you called."

Ginny nodded and smiled wanly. "That's alright. I didn't want to speak to Harry. I want to speak to you. May I come through?"

Narcissa's first thought was that this was going to be trouble. Speaking to Harry's former fiancé when she was to bear his heir simply seemed a terrible idea. The girl was steadily meeting her eyes in a most insistent manner though, which made it difficult to tell her in any way to bugger off. It would be impolite to refuse. "Very well, Miss Weasley. Please come through."

Much like Harry did Ginny Weasley fell through the Floo Network with incredible lack of grace. She brushed a bit of soot off her shoulder and waited for the customary greeting. The experience was almost painfully awkward for Narcissa, as she didn't know quite how to deal with the valued daughter of their rival family from whom they had taken a highly prestigious and wealthy match. Eventually they had settled into s sitting area nearby and a stale silence encircled them while they both prepared their tea.

"To what purpose do I owe this visit?" Narcissa asked politely when the silence had gone too far.

The younger woman smiled wanly again and sighed a bit into her teacup. "Harry told me that you've solved the mystery. I would offer you congratulations, but I don't know if you'll approve of that."

"Why would I not?"

"Because," Ginny offered gently, ", I know what Harry is now." Narcissa's hard look only made Ginny laugh. "I'm sorry, it's just- you know you figured it out before Hermione did? It was fantastic the way she spluttered when she fire-called Harry to tell him she'd pieced it together, only to hear you'd got there first. I think you've got a bit of a rival in her now, Mrs. Malfoy. It's a matter of pride that she knows everything first, and _you beat her_. She'll be insufferable for weeks. Now poor Ron has to deal with her whining and the baby's."

That did make Narcissa relax a little, but only just. "Be that as it may, I have yet to know if congratulations are in order. Yes, Mr. Potter will have his heir, and I will finally have a second child, that is true. I just have no idea how this is all going to play out after his instincts begin to come to fore." Narcissa gave her a hard look. "Have you discussed that far into it?"

Ginny shook her head. "no, Hermione and I decided that was between the three of you. It isn't really any of our business telling him things that will affect you so personally."

Narcissa nodded to her gratefully. "I appreciate that." Here she paused, uncertain if she should continue.

Ginny interrupted her, almost kindly. "I remember what it was like when Tom Riddle possessed me through the diary your husband slipped me in the bookstore. It felt horrible in a way I wouldn't wish on anyone. It was like… looking on from a distance while someone else moved you about on Marionette strings, and you couldn't even be heard screaming for them to stop. That was years ago, and I am not a child anymore, Mrs. Malfoy. I am well aware that war causes terrible injuries on both sides, no matter the circumstances, and I'm sympathetic to needless suffering whether I like who is enduring it or not." She met the older woman's eyes evenly. "Harry didn't tell me much, only that there are difficulties to overcome, and that I would understand them. I wish you luck, then. All of you."

Narcissa and Ginny stared at each other a while until the blonde accepted this as truth and bowed her head in acceptance. "That is very kind of you, Miss Weasley."

"I'm only worried how Harry will react when he figures out everyone had a secret about him and nobody told him, again. He won't be happy about it." Ginny said this slowly, as if trying to let the message soak in like a salve. "It would be better for all involved if he was made aware. If nothing else, he'll be prepared to brace himself against the worst of it. And besides, most of the gathered evidence on that front pertains to Merlin himself. As we know Merlin was a great man. He was also a possessive arse before Arthur came along, so it may have more to do with overall personality than you realize."

Narcissa closed her eyes and thought. "I have learned not to count on the less painful possibility, and prepare for the most severe. It causes less pain in the long run if one is prepared."

Ginny closed her eyes and lay her head back in the chair. She seemed very tired all of a sudden. "I got a letter from your son yesterday."

This struck Narcissa as vitally important, and she set her tea down to listen. "Yes?"

"He was asking about Harry. How he dealt with our relationship. His behavior patterns and the way he handled arguments and disagreements. It seems to me that Draco is already well aware Harry will be staying permanently, and wants to know what he should be prepared for. The same way you expect the worst, Draco is doing it too; preparing for the worst despite having clear messages from his dreams and divinations that he needn't worry." She looked into the flames and smiled. "You're a bunch of worrywarts, you know that? He even asked me if I would take Harry back were he to ask."

Narcissa waited tensely for her to continue, and snapped when she did not. "Well?"

Ginny snorted. "No. I love Harry, I do, but we were a bad match. We'd only end up separating in twenty years, sitting in our separate houses with angry children and confused friends, wondering what the hell happened to us. I'm going to be his friend and a part of his life forever, don't mistake that. As far as a relationship goes, though, you don't need to worry about me."

"That is admittedly good to hear," the blonde woman sighed. "I had considered it an obstacle."

"It only makes sense to. But there is one thing I have to tell you before I go," Ginny stated seriously.

"I see," Narcissa said coldly. "Is this the part where you tell me to be good to him or I'll face your wrath?"

Ginny giggled childishly. "Merlin, no! This is the part where I tell you all the subtle ways I've learned over the years that you can punish him when he needs it; and they always do, don't they?"

For an instant Narcissa was shocked at such a friendly gesture. She and Ginevra Weasley were not friends. But then, a feud only went so far, and women always had their own ways of communicating beyond the boundaries of the petty conflicts of patriarchs. Narcissa let that thought roll pleasantly around in her head before she slowly began to smile a bit wickedly. This was an opportunity to have a power over Harry no one else would, and that thought was a bit intoxicating. "Would you like some wine while we talk, Miss Weasley?"

The redhead nodded and smiled back. "Please, call me Ginny."

* * *

When Lucius and Harry returned from their outing both men looked confusedly at each other when they heard women laughing. It wasn't long after that they spotted Narcissa and Ginny having what appeared to be a very animated half-drunk conversation primarily concerning Harry in the dining room over sweets. The man in question groaned and muttered, "Oh, god…"

Lucius put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, though he was clearly fighting laughter himself. "Shall we leave the women to their tête-à-tête?"

"That's easy for you to say, considering you're not the subject of it," Harry drawled. Despite his annoyance he was grateful for the small contact. Far from expecting Harry to be the only one putting forth effort here, Lucius had attempted to allow small bits of contact now and again, half as often as he did with his wife, to facilitate some measure of trust development.

Lucius raised a brow. "What do you think women talk about exactly? Everything they have in their heads, if they can. I've tried to keep track of it from time to time when Narcissa had guests over and I was permitted to be present, but I never could manage. They'll get to me eventually, and I'd rather not be here when that happens. It isn't going to affect us one way or another what they discuss because this isn't a strategic plot. It is only harmless gossip."

"That harmless gossip is informing Narcissa on all the devious ways she can drive me spare," he argued.

"Which she would have discovered for herself in a few months' time regardless, would she not? Let them have their fun. Narcissa and I have separate Cabinets for a reason." Lucius motioned for Harry to follow him and they made their way back down the staircase.

Harry recognized they were heading into the Buttery, a room even Harry himself wanted to avoid because of the horrible tale he'd heard of the events that had taken place there. Lucius only strode in and looked around himself at the shelves of good wine and spirits to select what he wanted as if he had no thought of it at all. "Do you have a preference, Harry?"

It rather impressed Harry how Lucius could simply walk into this room without any ill-effects. Hermione avoided the Drawing Room at all costs when she visited, and Harry disliked the far-off look Luna got when they got anywhere near the entrance to the Cellar here. It was still impossible to get Ron to leave the Parlour Harry had to himself, as if the rest of the Manor was consciously aware of a Weasley's being there and would work against him if it could. The portraits would, admittedly, but not the Manor itself.

As if sensing Harry's thoughts, Lucius turned and gave him an even stare. "Your selection?" he pressed.

"Er…. Rum, if you don't mind," Harry finally decided.

Lucius nodded as he chose one of the six bottles available; the amber-colored liquid swimming gently in the glass as he tilted it this way and that. "Something sweet to dull the sour. An appropriate choice, given the circumstances."

Harry shrugged. "What should we mix it with?"

"Bite your tongue!" Lucius snapped. "One does not **mix** Rhum Agricole!"

Harry laughed and put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm clearly not as sophisticated in my tastes as you are."

"Indeed," the man narrowed his eyes and continued to silently seethe. "Now summon an elf to bring us ice-."

Harry backed a step unconsciously. "Can't we conjure it?"

"Believe it or not, Potter, the House-Elves are insulted if one conjures, cooks or summons too much rather than allowing them to do their duty. Have you actually read the guidelines young Mrs. Weasley set forth in the newly enforced laws on House-Elf welfare?" Lucius hissed.

Harry had to admit he had not gotten so far into them - the smaller guidelines on etiquette had bored him two pages in. The subject matter of that sentence clearly pointed to Hermione, otherwise he would have had to ask which 'young Mrs. Weasley' he was talking about. There were quite a lot of them by now. "Sorry?" he offered lamely.

Lucius continued snarking at Harry relentlessly, as he was prone to do. "-and if you had allowed me to finish, I would have said 'iced stones'."

Harry blinked. "Whiskey stones?"

"You have heard of them?" Lucius crossed his arms and lifted a brow. "I suppose you are not completely uncultured."

"My Uncle used them all the time. I just didn't know Wizards did much more than a charm to cool their drinks," Harry explained.

"We are not helpless without our spells." The man stalked down the hall into his Cabinet (an admittedly beautiful room full of dark woods, old books, antique armchairs, and plush rugs) where his two dogs growled at Harry hatefully but reluctantly let the younger man pass. They still didn't like him.

Harry stuck his tongue out at the dogs while Lucius's back was turned and chose the chair across from the blonde. "So, how long are we going to ignore the elephant in the room?" Lucius turned and gave him a blank stare. "Sorry, it's a Muggle expression that refers to ignoring a blatantly obvious problem."

Lucius turned back to the drinks and continued pouring, adding the ice-cold stones an elf had brought after the argument in the hallway had alerted them to fetch them to the drinks so they wouldn't get watered down by ice and lose their flavor. Only then did he sit in his chair and begin to sip from the drink on the left.

Harry raised a brow. "Are you going to give me mine?"

"I didn't make one for you," Lucius replied with a small smirk. "These are both for me."

Harry couldn't help but grin as he headed to the hutch to make his own. Yes, Lucius was childish - yes he was a bit of a coward unless his family was concerned. He was also quite funny once you got to know him enough to look past the mask and his insolence was a bit charming. It had more of a teasing air about it than anything else, and it was nice after the decorum that surrounded Harry in this place to poke fun once in a while. Now was not the time for it, though, as they had an important subject to broach. "Well?" Harry asked.

The blonde was silent until Harry took his seat, drink in hand. "I must first insist you tell me if you intend to remain here."

Harry swallowed the cold rum slowly, tasting fruit and wood. He had thought about it a lot since discovering what he was. His research on his birth mother had turned up little, but he did know that she had lived with the Potters under the guise of a Housekeeper to preserve Lily's secret. She had likely died in the house as well, though her body had not been found. Harry was certain, though, that whatever Lucius and Narcissa were fretting about; they were overreacting the hell out of it. Harry wasn't a Lord, wasn't going to keep them like his whores or something, and he really REALLY had no intention of being selfish or unkind in bed. Staying here after they had a child, really living here indefinitely, Harry had no qualms with.

"It seems like you and Narcissa have made that decision without me, and honestly I'm almost inclined to let you have that one at this point. My main concern is why you two were looking up Lordship and Property Laws. You seem to believe that I'll insist on being the head of the family once my heir is here," Harry said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass absently. "It's like you think I'll own you two or something. What are you expecting if I stay?"

"It isn't so much an 'if' as a 'when'," Lucius muttered darkly. "Of course you have the option to leave if you wish and command Narcissa and I to remain faithful to one another in your absence, but it is far more likely that you will choose to remain." Harry got the feeling this was something he needed to not joke about, so he was silent and patient while Lucius haltingly clarified. "We neglected to tell you in the Library when the rest was explained, but there is a behavioral difference between a Cambion and their ethereal forebears. Rather than having no care for any of their partners," Lucius said this last word sarcastically, "as an Incubus would; in the case of a Cambion there is a very human, very territorial sense of possession of their breeding partners. Merlin himself was so possessive of Igraine that he and Uther arranged her first husband's death when she bore Arthur of them. I cannot say if she approved, but the legend says she was had in deception; believing she lay with her husband at the time. I find that she was pleased with the situation highly unlikely at best."

Lucius was silent a while as he finished his first drink and began sipping at the next. "Because of such problems with Cambion there are actual laws in place to dictate how their breeding partners must be treated, to prevent such abuses taking place. Often an unfortunate amount of problems are caused by the Cambion's partners trying to escape them, therefore to prevent such things from occurring it is made financially… inconvenient for them to attempt it. Even injuries are downplayed from time to time to prevent prosecution from separating the involved humans from their third spouse." Here he paused to cast a curious look, then continued. "No, I do not believe you are cruel enough to do such things consciously, but there is no mistaking the instinctive need to own and control in a Cambion after they sense the presence of their offspring. Until that point there is more or less a human, though strangely powerful, regard to the world. After a child is conceived it seems time and time again to be the case that Cambion turn territorial in regard to family."

Harry took another sip of his own drink and let the burn slowly slide to his belly to cool his nerves. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"

Lucius shrugged. "It was a lot for you to face the initial explanation. Narcissa and I were still coming to terms with our fate in the matter, and wanted to research more into it before sharing what we knew. It seems to me that one would be better served having later but accurate information rather than earlier and incorrect. Either way it made no difference; we have made little progress thus far."

"I don't agree," Harry smiled a little. "It wasn't long ago that you wouldn't feel safe being in the room alone with me by choice, would you? I call what we're doing now, drinking, talking, and sharing, good progress."

"What makes you think I feel safe, Harry?" the blonde drawled. "I am merely gaining tolerance. After a few years even the Dark Lord's presence no longer caused me obvious discomfort save a clumsy tongue-" Lucius paused when Harry's expression turned angry. His free hand gripped the arm of his chair tightly while he waited. For what, Harry wasn't certain.

Still; he had already asked the man to stop comparing him to Voldemort several times. It seemed as if he was unable to help himself, like a Pavlovian response to anything he didn't like would automatically flagged as associated to his old master. This left Harry in the position of being compared to him on a regular basis simply because Lucius found his presence uncomfortable and threatening whether it was intended or not. There was, however, a silver lining to be had in this conversation; Harry noticed that Lucius had realized his mistake and paused. He was trying, and eventually he would get it right. Little by little the Malfoys were making progress.

Draco had been getting along well enough with the Longbottoms and Weasleys and even Hermione. Apparently successfully defecting had labeled them Blood-Traitors as well in the eyes of those that still believed, however little, in the Purity Myth. There was no longer any social need for them to pretend, and now it was only a matter of reminding themselves to change their behaviors. Harry didn't like to think of it as training, but it really was. In the same way that practicing with a wand made one more skilled, practicing running made one faster, and practicing a language helped you learn it; the Malfoys were training themselves to be less bigoted. Harry's presence was helping immensely because his reactions were setting natural alarms in their heads that let them know they'd said or done something offensive, and they were slowly learning not to do those things now.

It only took a few moments for Harry to regain his composure and nod to Lucius with a smile. As was typical of him, the man did not apologize outright for the small error, he merely continued. "All I meant to say is that tolerating your presence is poor preparation for actual contact," he said.

The way Lucius had stated that – with finality – made Harry think. "So what you're saying is that the little steps we've been taking to get you used to me have done all they can, and we'll need to move on if the progress is to continue."

Lucius's hand paused midway to his mouth and clutched the glass tightly, which he eventually put down again. "I am not certain that was my meaning," he said nervously.

"I'm not certain it wasn't." Harry's statement made Lucius go eerily still. Harry instantly changed the subject and resolved to come back to this later. "I wonder if what you told me about the laws concerning Cambion aren't part of some self-fulfilling prophecy."

Lucius's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I only mean that I'm not sure I turned out to be a hero because it was Fate, or because I was manipulated into it, or because I tried harder because I knew the prophecy existed. It may have been a combination, it may have been none. It may have been my lust for revenge against the man who killed my parents, which is a legitimate reason not many people note. There are too many factors to consider to come to a real decision on that without personal experience." Harry finished his drink and smiled gently at Lucius. "I'm wondering if Cambion are really, instinctively bastards or if they act that way because the laws exist and they know they can get away with it. A lot like Pure-Bloods did when those kinds of laws existed too. And since I wasn't raised either one of those things, the problems you're worried about may not occur."

Lucius snorted and took another sip. "Insultingly phrased, but you have a fair point. Unfortunately it is all, eventually, down to experimentation, isn't it? And I've no choice in the matter."

"Look, I'm obviously not going to do anything without your permission," Harry said quickly. Thankfully that caused the older man to look up at him. The expression was of wary reluctance, but at least it was acknowledgement. "All I'm asking is that we give it a try while Narcissa is occupied. The worst that can happen is you ask me to stop and we try again later."

Lucius mulled this over a while. Narcissa, though he loved her, could not seem to fathom that he would rather her not be present when he and Harry attempted the harvest needed. She would like to be there as a failsafe, as if she could stop it, if one or the other of them became too violent. Lucius didn't see it that way. Were he to falter or fail he did not want her to bear witness to it; the experience itself would be humiliating enough.

"I can see the logic in your suggestion," he admitted. "I suppose you are right. Further delay will only-"

"Will you stop being so bloody gloomy about this?" Harry asked plaintively. "This is practice. I'm not expecting to succeed just yet. You've got nothing to worry about. If you get too uncomfortable or I do something you just don't agree with then just tell me; I'll stop."

Harry knew what Lucius would say before the words left his mouth. It was just one more obstacle they had to overcome before anything could begin - one more issue it made sense for a man like Lucius to have. It was a conversation they'd had not long ago. Since then ralative calm had ensued and both had accepted it as relative fact; unfortunate, but true.

* * *

_" Lucius, are you insane? There has to be a reason you're treating me like this!" Harry shouted so loudly it carried down the hall. Several of the portraits moved from their frames and away from them._

_"I am not," came the clipped answer. He raised his head and gave Harry a stare that was probably meant to be vicious and failed miserably. His eyes were still too wide; too openly upset from the previous statement that he could not even duel for Harry to leave the Manor for an evening - he would have to swallow his pride and ask._

_ "That look you gave me," Harry began slowly, "you used to look at Voldemort that way." Harry waited for the flinch to wear off and for Lucius to focus on him more steadily before he continued. "I know because I saw him sometimes through our bond. I saw what he was seeing, felt what he did. And I think I've finally figured out why you've been such a relentless bastard while I've been here."_

_"Pray tell, Potter, why is that?" Lucius sneered_

_"Because your bigotry runs so deep you've convinced yourself anything less than Pure-Blood is as good as a beast. An animal, like Greyback, that delighted in causing pain, or even like Remus Lupin, who was unable to stop himself. You think somewhere in that head of yours that being a Cambion automatically makes me a violent, mindless monster and, furthermore, that I can't help it."_

_"Shut up, Potter!"_

* * *

It had been a moment of awakening that Lucius did not deny it, and merely screamed at Harry to shut up like a frightened child. It still hurt Harry to hear the statement outright, though; because it meant precisely what it sounded like. Lucius was afraid Harry would begin having sex with him and be utterly unable to stop.

"I do not believe you." If nothing else, Lucius was being honest.

"I know," Harry answered. He put his drink down and stood in front of the other man, who remained deceptively placid in his chair. "Try it anyway and see what happens."


	12. Making Progress

I am now accepting suggestions on what Harry should look like once he hits the transformative abilities of his full Cambion/Incubus self. I have searched and searched and the only definitive (not based on popular art or Christian theology) description of an Incubus's appearance is that they are shapeshifters and can look like whatever they want. Admittedly, I am stuck. Therefore I would like to hear some opinions from all of you on what Harry should look like in his transformed state; one that should feel natural to him as Harry Potter. Keep in mind his eyes will not change in shape or color - those are the trait he inherited from his Cambion parent and are the one part of him he cannot change. My one stipulation is that I would like him to have a tail, because I like tails.

I look forward to what you all come up with.

Also I apologize for being so late with this chapter. Occasionally I have to go and do that 'work' thing that pays my bills and buys my food and keeps the internet running. Sometimes I have to do it for 60 hours a week. For several weeks in a row. Merlin help me...

Note: These people are British. As such 'trousers' are pants and 'pants' are boxers. Please don't get the two confused. When the text says 'pants' they are referring to underwear, ok?

MMWillow13: Thank you very much. If you think of any more points I may have missed that could be relevant here, let me know.

rebabe: It's not easy trying to come up with the various reasons for these things to come together. I'm glad you like it.

delia cerrano: I really didn't think I was either until I met my Husband's ex-girlfriend. She's sweet, I adore her kids, and we're really good friends now. I guess it just depends on the person. If you meet someone and you think 'I know why he left her' it isn't going to work, but if you think things just didn't work out don't be afraid to be friends. You'd be really surprised who you can connect with.

kain: She's grudging, but choosing to grow up and move on. If she wants to remain Harry's friend she's smart enough to know that she'll have to get along with his 'spouses' and learn to accept that her friend's child has Malfoy blood in them too. All she did was realize she loved Harry more than she hated the Malfoys, and decided to work with them.

BAFan: Dang it - the first one was funnier. Why did you correct it?

* * *

It had been such a moment of awakening that Lucius did not deny it, and merely screamed at Harry to shut up like a frightened child. It still hurt Harry to hear the statement outright, though; because it meant precisely what it sounded like. Lucius was afraid Harry would begin having sex with him and be utterly unable to stop.

"I do not believe you." If nothing else, Lucius was being honest.

"I know," Harry answered. He put his drink down and stood in front of the other man, who remained deceptively placid in his chair. "Try it anyway and see what happens."

As Harry leaned forward to place his hand gently along the older man's jawline, blue eyes stared fiercely into his as if daring him to do something untoward. Harry merely smiled at the already uncomfortable blonde and played his fingers lightly on the day's grown stubble, as Lucius had not shaved since that morning. Tense silence permeated the air as Harry moved that hand along pale skin to the shoulder, sliding underneath the exquisitely tailored plush robe as he went. His other hand did the same thing on the opposite side, step-by-step, until Lucius's loose house robe would have easily fallen off with only a slight push.

"May I kiss you?" Harry asked, leaning in only a bit.

The man visibly flinched, though not badly. "I would rather you did not."

Of course, Harry thought, inwardly wincing. That would require touching the older man with his mouth. It had been a mean question now that he thought about it and he murmured an apology as he took to his knees. Lucius's eyes were wide and wary; he had begun to push back into his chair. Harry doubted he was even aware of it.

"It's alright," Harry said as he pushed the robe back to fall between the chair and the man's back, where it remained pinned in place.

Lucius sneered at him defensively. "I am not a child, Harry. I've no need to hear such things."

"Mm-hm," Harry agreed without words. He got the feeling that if he spoke too much he would fantastically botch this. He would be careful to ask and wait for a response before the slightest action. He really didn't want to startle the other man. He placed his fingers over the top of the blonde's buttons. "May I?"

Lucius only gave him a curt nod. As Harry undid each button by he thought over what he knew of the condition that Lucius was in, and had been in. It was true that the Malfoy Patriarch had healed considerably from the vicious attack, but the progress was mostly physical. Emotional and mental healing were completely different.

Harry had only arrived at the Household during the end of what had no doubt been a long and arduous recovery for the Malfoy family. Several years had passed since Dobby had assisted in the escape from the Manor. At the time Harry had been overwhelmed by grief as he buried his little friend and didn't really see what was going on through the tunnel in his mind where his link with Voldemort had allowed him to sense the terrible vengeance the tyrant had enacted on the family that had failed to keep him captive. He now knew that it had been enough to cripple them for quite some time. Narcissa and Draco, in addition to their own serious injuries, had only just recovered from the malady that had befallen them in reaction to the suffering of their Husband and Father. It had taken them years to pull through it and regain some of their former strength and, even now, there was still some way to go.

Lucius himself had displayed a depth of character that Harry had never expected of him. It had taken Harry time to realize it, but it was true; instead of mourning over his own suffering Lucius was only reacting to it and trying to mend as best he could. He worried over the melancholy his family suffered for him, tended to them if he was able, but had not mourned himself into a similar depression. Harry had to admit it was rather… selfless of the man. The signs and symptoms he had displayed thus far were normal after such an attack. Anyone would have had them all to some degree. Lucius endured all of the physical and emotional effects of the attack without letting himself fall into utter despair. It must have been the only thing that had kept his Wife and Son alive during those years of recovery. If their Patriarch had lost his mind or completely lost what little courage he had left they might have all died of misery.

Instead they had pressed on. The final battle at Hogwarts itself was evidence of this. Lucius had been in the boat house with Voldemort, begging to find Draco in the chaos. Narcissa had been in the forest, asking over their son in the castle. Draco had been in the castle, doggedly pursuing the only course of action he thought would help his family survive. Harry had no doubt that the Malfoys had a long way to go in understanding and learning to move past Pure-Blood ideals, but he was very certain of this: he held the Malfoys in equal esteem in terms of being a caring, devoted family as the one he had nearly married into, and he couldn't give a higher compliment than that.

If only for that one thing they deserved Harry's regard.

And it was this gentler mindset Harry was in when he began to see the purple gaping scars in what had once been beautifully unmarred pale skin before werewolf teeth had ferociously ripped into it and taken pieces away. Lucius was taking breaths a bit faster with every inch of flesh revealed, and though they were still even and conspicuously devoid of panic, Harry knew better. It was control alone that prevented Lucius throwing a fit right then, and Harry pulled his hands back.

"Take a moment and calm down. I won't touch you."

These words had the desired effect and Lucius closed his eyes to rest a short while. When he opened them he seemed thoughtful. "Perhaps allowing me to pursue contact would not cause as much worry. If I am allowed command of the situation there would be less-"

"No." The word had come out before Harry could even think it. It had shocked him just as much as Lucius, who stared nervously at him. After a moment Harry gathered his thoughts and sighed. "I'm sorry, Lucius. I didn't mean to say that so bluntly. But letting someone have control over me in a sexual situation feels so wrong I've never been able to do it. It felt like treading through water with weights on. It must be one of the Cambion things. I will do everything I can to help you get used to this; I'll go slow and even let you tell me what to do when you need it, but I can't let you have 'command' as you said. It's just too unnatural."

Lucius crossed his arms over himself to hide his bared flesh and looked to the fireplace, watching the flames dance as he thought. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I can't conceive, obviously," Harry said directly.

"Narcissa will die-"

Harry chuckled. "You won't let that happen. I know that much at least. You love her too much, and even if you come in drunk and order me to Obliviate you after you'll still go through with this."

Lucius snorted and seemed to sink into himself. "You are right."

"Shall we continue then?" Harry asked. At the other man's tensing he said quickly, "Tell me what to do."

The older man finally looked out from under his trailing hair. "What?"

"Tell me," Harry repeated patiently, "what to do. It isn't exactly command is it, if I'm still doing everything and you're being still? Tell me what you like. Or what you can tolerate. Give me some direction."

Lucius thought. He straightened in his chair and finished removing his shirt and robe and neatly folded them. Harry put them on the desk nearby. "This is strange to me," Lucius admitted slowly. "There was a time I would indulge Narcissa and let her bind me, if she would return the favor. I could ravish her in the dark of night with nothing to guide me. I would wake in the dark hours of early morning to her nails on my skin and be glad of it. I feel a shell of myself."

Harry frowned sympathetically. "You don't know what you like anymore," he concluded.

"I do not," Lucius rasped.

"May I try to figure it out, then? There are some areas of the body most people don't' associate with sex that respond well to touch and excite the body. If you aren't consumed by the thought of sex, you might be able to enjoy simple touch." Harry's suggestion was met with a small sigh. He held out his hands without touching and held them over Lucius's scarred chest. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Lucius swallowed. "Very well." He put his hands on the arms of his chair and braced them there.

Harry smiled. "I need your hands."

This made Lucius's brow furrow in confusion. "Whatever for?"

"You'll see."

* * *

It was unlike anything Lucius had ever experienced. He couldn't seem to keep his breathing even, his head thrashed, his back arched - it felt for the world as if he were having sex.

Yet Harry was barely touching him.

It had been nearly half an hour since he had agreed to let the man play. Everything had started out as one would expect - Lucius had become increasingly anxious as his clothing disappeared piece by piece until only his pants remained. Innocent touches on the palms of his hands, the backs of his knees, the curve of his waist, neck, ears, and even the soles of his feet - all entirely innocent things that may have been done by a healer during an examination- had combined to set his skin alight. At last Harry had played his fingers upon places more commonly attributed to sex, though in unusual ways. Harry never used nails, or even his palms - this was entirely the sensation of fingers and breaths over skin.

Lucius had actually cried out when he'd let Harry put a finger in his mouth. Instead of brushing the tongue or demanding Lucius suck on the digit as had been expected, Harry had merely traced a line over the roof of the blonde's mouth toward his front teeth.

The sensation had been positively electric. It seemed that Harry Potter was indeed a Cambion; he had a natural talent for finding the most sensitive of areas and manipulating them expertly.

Shortly after that, though, Lucius's arousal had begun to get in the way.

Harry couldn't lean in as close as he needed to without touching areas that Lucius associated with his torment. The insides of his thighs were scratched as if Greyback had been trying to slice off bits of leg meat, and Harry could not get between the man's legs without making him jump and flinch.

At last Harry accidentally brushed a particularly large scar, an indent in the blonde's calf that caused a violent recoil. "Stop!" Lucius pushed Harry away so fiercely that the younger man fell back on his backside and looked annoyed about it. "That is enough," he continued more calmly a moment later.

Harry stood a bit awkwardly. "I suppose you're right. You did well, though. I'm surprised. Do you need me to leave a bit, so you can take care of that?"

"Not all of us are unable to control ourselves. It will pass in a moment." Lucius put on his house robe hastily, ignoring Harry's frustrated sigh. "If you must, go on and relieve yourself."

Harry sat in his chair and pulled at his crotch, trying to will his erection down. "I think I'd rather have another drink." he concluded.

Lucius snorted. He poured two glasses rather high and offered one. "It seems appropriate."

* * *

The night wore on for Ginny and Narcissa.

Eventually their laughter died down and the bottle of wine was nearly gone, and they simply stared into the fire enjoying the pleasantly dizzy feeling the drink had given them while they talked. Narcissa broke the silence first.

"I am so looking forward to having a child again," she mused with a smile. "I don't think I got to do it long enough, you understand. Hard though it was I liked the feeding and the changing and the endless playing and the bedtime stories. I remember each little tooth coming in and every nightmare and all of the firsts; each time he got up on all fours by himself and the little distances he would crawl before falling down. The elation when I saw him stand up against the play pen and the jealousy when he wanted Lucius and not me when he fell down. The first step… scared the hell out of me to be honest. Draco decided that one of the fireplaces was too pretty to ignore and went right for it. I know now he wouldn't have gotten far, but I knew where he was headed and my heart stopped for just a moment and I grabbed him up before Lucius could calm me. Both of them were angry at me after that," she laughed. "Draco wanted down and Lucius wanted me to put him down and I just wouldn't do it for a while." She sighed and looked to the window, which was now dark with the evening. "I can't wait to do it all again."

Ginny smiled at her. "I'm happy for you. Really, I am. I may not have done the mommy thing before but I want to; over and over again. If you don't mind me asking… why didn't you have more after Draco if you wanted to so badly? Was Lucius against it?"

Narcissa's smile faded. "We both were. Harry Potter had just become The-Boy-Who-Lived and we thought of having another child, but the atmosphere in the world was changing in the Pure-Blood circles. Not many outside the innermost caste from the first war knew, but there was a lot of trying to resurrect the Dark Lord." She sighed. "Whether you believe me or not Lucius and I were against that idea as well. The sort of world that was before Harry Potter was not a world we wanted to bring children into, just to see them live in a place like that; Pure-Blood or not. We decided we had our heir and it would be unfair to bring any unnecessary children to a place they were not likely to be happy if those attempts succeeded."

Ginny hummed quietly to herself a moment while she thought. "I believe you. I don't know why, but it's in your eyes. I don't think anyone in their right mind would want that, and you're clearly not mad." She lifted her glass in a little mock toast. "A bit spoiled and haughty, perhaps, but not mad. Though, Harry is still my friend - would you mind having some handmade knitted things for the baby at all? Standard Weasley gifts, you understand."

Narcissa giggled. "No, I wouldn't. The Black family made a lot by hand. Lucius may object, but I know there is always a bit of magic in things you weave or sew yourself. But I can't tell if you're trying to pick a fight or just being honest."

"Er… both?" Ginny tried before dissolving into giggling herself. "How much have we had to drink?"

Narcissa looked at the table where two empty bottles and one half-full one sat, then to her empty glass, and then the clock. "Five hours… not too much for that time. With enough water we should be alright in the morning. Well, I will at least. I don't know your tolerance, Ginny."

The red-haired woman shrugged it off. "Oh, I'll live. It was all worth it for your company, and the good conversation. I wonder what the men are up to, though?"

Narcissa snorted into her glass while she took another sip. "They were listening to us at the staircase a long while ago, then went back down. Harry looked very annoyed with us-"

"Oh, the _poor thing_!" Ginny mocked.

"—so I assume they went to Lucius's Cabinet with a bottle of their own and fell asleep. That's what my Husband usually does when he's upset with me." She swirled her glass to warm the red wine in her palm. "Though I wonder where Harry went to sleep? There's only one couch in that room and the elves tend to leave us where we fall if we've had too much to drink."

Ginny looked at the flames thoughtfully. "Harry doesn't usually drink much, and when he does it doesn't do much to him. I suppose he went back to his room."

The blonde woman sighed. "When are you expected back home?"

"Whenever I get there," Ginny laughed. "I'm too old for a bedtime."

"Then may I broach a new subject?" Narcissa asked delicately. "I know it hasn't been long, but have you found any new prospects?"

Ginny grinned and sat back in her chair, stretching. "One, but my Father might kill me."

"Why is that?"

"He's a Slytherin," she snorted.

Narcissa beamed at her. "Oh, you _poor thing_!" she imitated Ginny's earlier mocking tone, and they laughed together.

Another five hours later and it was three in the morning. They had stopped drinking long ago and had eaten a very late supper and drank lots of water and tea to aid any resulting ill effects of the alcohol. They had continued talking and laughing and enjoying each other's company until Ginny simply couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, and both women decided it was time for her to go home. They headed to the Parlour Harry used for his guests for her to use the Floo and along the way managed to trip over the last step on the bottom of the stairway, a rug that wasn't laying exactly flat, each other, and one of Lucius's dogs, and were consumed by a relentless giggle-fit by the time they actually got there. They said their goodbyes fondly and quickly.

Just after Ginny threw the powder into the fireplace and stated her home, she turned back to Narcissa with a gasp and leaned in as if she were about to impart a monumental secret. "One more thing…"

Playing along, Narcissa leaned in with every bit the drama Ginny had put up. "What?"

The read-haired woman put a finger up in a playfully accusing manner and said, "If you hurt Harry I'll kill you," in a sing-song way before jumping into the green flames.

Narcissa threw her hands up in exasperation and yelled. "Bloody HELL; I knew it!"

* * *

Harry lifted his head off the couch and looked blearily at the doorway where he had heard the shout not far down the hall. "What is she yelling about?"

Lucius snorted from his armchair. Harry had showed him how to transfigure it into a reclining armchair that he was now absolutely obsessed with, to the point where he had resolved to buy a proper Muggle one the moment the stores opened in the morning. The way he was lying in it was so unintentionally glorious Harry had redefined the 'slouch of villainy'. "I don't care, Harry. It's three hours to sunrise. Go back to sleep."

Harry grunted and did so.

* * *

Seriously - do that thing on the roof of your mouth. Put a finger in and trace the middle line from the soft part up to the back of your two front teeth, lightly. Works, doesn't it?


	13. Family Matters

Woodlandspirit: I'm saving the wings for another story, but good suggestion.

LeaniaSTL: Having a tongue ring would definitely have that effect; loss of sensitivity. For some people it just doesn't work, but I can tell you it certainly works for me.

Kain: She just HAD to, and being drunk didn't hurt. ^_^

I Alani: I had exactly that reaction when I discovered an Inu Yasha fanfic three years ago. I feel ya'. Nice to know I can inspire that in someone else.

Karapiri: I am trying to write in the British way. I have no idea if I'm actually succeeding or not, but thanks for the encouragement. I'm not only American, I'm from Kentucky. Y'all lucky I know how to spell.

* * *

Harry swore to himself as he stalked the halls, once again looking for someone to interact with in the massive building that seemed to willfully lead him astray at every turn. Lucius was more-or-less avoiding him as had been expected, Narcissa was likely consoling him, and Draco had been out and about for a while now. Harry was certain he'd recovered from his illness completely now and was preparing for his future; choosing his career, making political contacts, selecting candidates for his marriage, etc… It was nice to know that at the very least Harry didn't need to worry about finding his old rival moping around the Manor anymore.

And of course, the second Harry turned the corner, he was wrong.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked Draco. He was sitting in the window seat at the end of the hallway looking morose, though thankfully healthy.

He shrugged. "Nothing you need concern yourself with, Potter."

Annoyed, Harry went and sat with him anyway, occupying the other end of the sofa-sized window seat. "That's funny; since I got here all I seem to be doing is concerning myself with all of you. I'm certainly not complaining either; as far as things seem to be going I'll be a permanent resident sometime soon. Even you can't argue with that."

Draco snorted. "It is very daunting for me to think about you being the father of my sibling, that they'll have your name." He picked up a candle snuffer and poked Harry in the arm with it. "My only consolation is that it's very likely they'll inherit the Malfoy elegance and not end up looking like you," he teased.

Harry snickered. "You never know – there's always one physical trait that passes on. Wouldn't it be interesting to see a Malfoy clone with hair like mine?" He grabbed a handful of his unruly black hair and pulled it even more out of what little order it had been in to begin with. "Black and with a mind all its own no matter what you try to do with it."

Draco winced. "I'm hoping for the eyes and nothing else – that hair would be an insult to my bloodline."

Harry smiled. "Speaking of which – how is the search going? I heard you were looking to expand the family as well. Have you met anyone that you get on with yet?"

The other man sat back heavily. "Haven't you involved yourself enough in my family affairs?"

"No," Harry said bluntly, maintaining his smile, which he now imagined looked very irritating. "What's got you staring out at the fountain like you want to jump into it? You're not even in an actual room – you've taken to sulking in a bloody hallway. Something must be bothering you. Maybe I can help."

Draco glared menacingly. "If you think I need your public influence to find a bride-"

"No, no! That's not what I meant," Harry said hastily. "You've got the look of a man who's already made up his mind. I'm offering to lend an ear, and ideas if I get any. If you don't mind me asking, though, who is it and why are you interested? I don't really know what your criteria are."

Draco relented a little, but crossed his arms and continued his challenging eye contact. "You are asking if I've been looking for a match on political reasons or personal ones."

Harry didn't expect it to be put so directly, but he nodded regardless. "I don't want to overstep my bounds here, and I'll need some basic information before I can offer my thoughts."

"The answer is both, Potter. I'm not an animal and neither is any Witch I consider, so I don't dare try to arrange things as my Grandfather would have by only basing candidates on breeding and wealth alone. Yes, I'm looking within a certain group of people and weigh the political and social impact of the marriage before pursuing my options, but I also know the dangers of a very small gene pool and identify candidates outside Pure-Blood lines. Much as I adore my mother, her family was quite literally related to every single Pure-Blood family in the past 200 years. Hell, Sirius Black's parents had the same last name _before_ they were married. Following the traditional guidelines at this point is just stupid and arrogant." Draco sat back again and gave up his glaring. "I may want to start raising my family's prestige again, but I'm not willing to sacrifice my happiness for it; nor would my parents approve if I tried."

Harry nodded approvingly. "Good, I would have worried if you had made your choice and was upset because you knew the marriage was doomed from the start."

"I remember hearing of my Father doing that when his marriage to my mother was arranged," Draco mused. "The portraits told me he was inconsolable for a day or two. The fact that he and Mother get along so well is purely coincidence – they got lucky is all."

"So?" Harry pressed gently.

The blonde took a breath and looked out the window again. "Three months ago I began trading letters with Daphne Greengrass. After a week or so we became friends, but she directed me to her sister on advising I'd be better matched with her instead. It was a friendly thing to do and I wouldn't mind having Daphne as my sister; she was right too. Astoria is exactly what I was looking for. We've been courting since our first letter for more than two months and we've met here several times for tea, though I believe you were out with my Father on errands every time."

Harry tilted his head unconsciously in his confusion. "What's the problem, then?"

"For the most part the latest generations of traditionalist parents are giving their children much more freedom in marriage selections than their parents before them, unfortunately the Greengrass family is still clinging to outdated ideals of decorum. My contact with Astoria had been cut off by her mother while the old shrew analyzes my worth and presses her daughters for everything they know about me from school. Mr Greengrass is likely having everything from my grades and habits to my net worth and family tree analyzed. I'm being examined like an animal at auction before they'll allow Astoria to contact me again."

Harry's fists were clenched in anger, but he already knew there was not much he could do to help in this situation without the Malfoy's expertise. Doing anything without sufficient understanding of these traditions and knowing what he was wanted to help with might ruin any chance Draco still had. "I don't understand what the problem is. I know that a lot of the Pure-Blood lines are still concerned with pre-war ideals, and you're… well, a MALFOY. Why would they refuse? You're certainly rich enough and there aren't many with such a stable household, let alone the political influence you had-"

Draco growled. "Until just recently, Potter. We've suffered for the war. As a family we have lost easily half of our influence, a good deal of our gold after handling trials and bribes and enough donations to charitable causes to maintain what little image we still had! And we defected." He stood and began to pace back and forth in front of the window angrily. "You don't know what that means to traditional lines. It's the equivalent of tripping at the finish line. We denounced Pure-Blood ideals when we defected from the Dark Lord's inner caste. Don't you know what that means? We're officially Blood-Traitors to those that still hold to those beliefs, Potter! Not only that but switching sides based on opportunity is seen as worse that being a Blood-Traitor to begin with and sticking with your beliefs throughout, so any Weasley is more likely to stand higher in the Greengrass's list of suitors than I."

Harry winced and ran a hand through his hair. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Because of that I'm essentially a huge risk for a family like the Greengrass line to take on their daughter. They're looking for everything they can find on me to be sure that I won't simply leave Astoria when things get difficult and she becomes inconvenient. Every marriage has its trials and periods of unrest, and I'm.." Draco threw the candle snuffer he'd been holding and gesturing with for a while now, which broke against the wall. "It'll take several generations to gain our former prestige and fortune back. Despite the fact that I genuinely care for their daughter, even I must admit that her dowry and her name would help us significantly along that path. It looks like I'm using her, and I can't blame her parents for wanting to ensure my worth."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "I never understood this method of courting. Far as I'm concerned you should be able to marry anyone you love and work out everything else later – but even I didn't get to do that, did I?"

"Could you love them, Potter?"

The question had come out of nowhere, and Harry looked up in surprise. "Who?"

Draco stared at him evenly. "Narcissa and Lucius," he said plainly. "Given time, could you love them? Not every marriage arrangement works, and I'm not stupid – that's essentially what this is. It took several years but my parents eventually came to terms and developed genuine love for each other. I know I can do nothing to stop the accidental bond you have with them. It isn't even my place to do so. I only want to know you'll take care of them."

"I've been thinking about that," Harry admitted slowly. "This all started out as some sort of business deal and nothing more. It would take a long time to explain and I'm sure I'd muck it up if I tried, but I think that's already started. I'm being as careful as I can to help Lucius recover from his ordeal and be patient while that happens, and not once have I felt bitter about it. I know Narcissa feels guilty for trapping us all, even though she didn't mean it, but I'm so grateful for her solving the puzzle of my Heir that I can't find myself angry about that either. This isn't the way I thought my life would turn out. Hell, for a while I was sure I wouldn't have a life after the war at all; but I'm here, they're here, and eventually my Heir will be here too. So it's not a question of IF I'll love them at all anymore. The gates are down and the lights are flashing… I'm just waiting for the train to arrive."

Draco let out a slow breath. "You have no idea how it relieves me to hear that."

Harry thought he did. It felt to him as if the air around Draco had become less dense, less upset, simply from hearing that one statement. "Don't worry about your parents, Draco. I'll do that. You worry about Astoria. Do you think there's anything I could do?"

"No," Draco said. "If you interfere directly it will look too much like bribery, as if I'm using Harry Potter to front for me in a matter I should be handling myself. It's too risky. Thank you, but no."

"It seems to me you really just need a good number of character witnesses. I definitely wouldn't advise putting you in any sort of political position-"

"Thanks," Draco snapped wryly.

"-but I don't see you being a bad husband in any way." Harry finished.

Draco sighed and rubbed his temples. "Perhaps character witnesses wouldn't be useless if I had contacts on your side of the war, but I don't."

"Most of my friends have come to stay here with me since I'm unable to leave the Manor without Lucius. Hermione and Luna aren't skittish about being in the Manor anymore. Your Mother and Ginny seem to be getting along well. The Weasleys are pretty influential now. Why don't we ask her for some ideas?" Harry suggested. "It was Ron that advised me to take your Mother's offer to begin with. He even witnessed the Vow – isn't that already an alliance?"

"I suppose you're right," Draco admitted at last.

"The next time I invite everyone over, why don't you join us in the Parlour? We can discuss your options and ask if anyone will help." Harry wasn't expecting the blonde to look so shocked at being invited, but he pressed on anyway. "I don't think they'll refuse to help with something like this."

"I'm not sure if I should believe you, Potter. But I'll try anything at this point. When do you meet?" he asked.

"I'll invite everyone for this Friday. Arrive at eight or so, after they're all in. You can explain everything to them then."

Draco closed his eyes and fretted, "I wish I could tell Astoria we have a plan, but all of my letters are being sent back still sealed."

"Your letters are. I'll ask Ginny to write her. That should get through." Harry said.

Draco nodded and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Thank you."

Harry did the same and bowed his head a little. "You're welcome."

* * *

Narcissa had known her son was having considerable trouble with courting Miss Greengrass for some time now. It had been several days since the first sealed letter had come back with a very put-out looking owl demanding treats for its useless flight. Draco had sent half a dozen since then and each had come back and each had him looking more and more dejected and defeated.

And somehow Harry had pulled him out of that. Draco's mood had changed instantly. Narcissa had seen him going to his usual sulking spot to stare out over the garden and he had come back past her half an hour later looking perfectly composed. The difference was astonishing.

It had taken her some hours of asking portraits and elves, but it all proved fruitless until she had simply asked Harry what he had done to cheer Draco out of his melancholy and the man had simply told her outright. Harry behaved as if it was not a problem at all, he was glad to do it, and didn't understand why it was such a significant thing. Lucius had tried to explain that what Harry was doing; freely using his resources and alliances to aid Draco with no expectation of reward; was something only close family did in Pure-Blood circles. It was significant to the Malfoys because they had no way of repaying him this as well, after so many things had already been twisted with all the life debts and vows and alliances and legal issues they already had on their plates.

Harry had simply waved them off and stated, "That's what friends do."

Draco had surprisingly agreed, and left it at that. Clearly he was adjusting to the new social role the family had found themselves in better than his parents were. Since the offer he had even stopped using Harry's surname to address him, opting for his given name instead. To everyone in the Malfoy family, Harry Potter had simply become Harry. Just Harry. And it seemed to be exactly what Harry had wanted from the start. There was a far more relaxed and carefree attitude amongst the youngest Malfoy and his old school rival; they were getting along perfectly.

Lucius and Narciassa, however, couldn't seem to stop thinking in terms of debts and payments. They were still very aware of the possibility Harry may lose his composure when the Potter Heir had been conceived, and wanted no debts for him to have available to torment them with.

"We cannot leave this unanswered." Narcissa's tea cup trembled slightly in her hand. She put it down and began to rub her knee, as her leg was bothering her significantly today.

Lucius knelt by her chair and pulled the slipper off her foot so that he could massage the pained limb instead. She lay back and let him, looking relieved as his hands pressed at the spots he knew bothered her the most. "Drink your tea, love. We'll think of something."

"I worry, Lucius. At the rate Harry is doing us favors, we'll never repay them." She picked up her tea again and was gratified to see the cup still. "I would never wish he hadn't helped Draco, but I feel as if I am sinking. What should we do?"

"We wait until we know if the tide is rising or receding, and move accordingly. Harry's plan has not yet failed or succeeded. The offer alone is deserving of recognition, but we won't know definitively what do to until the situation develops further." Lucius pressed his fingers deeply yet gently into Narcissa's calf until the spasms relaxed. "In the meantime, the offer must be respected on its own. We will reward that and then deal with what comes next as a separate debt."

She hummed as her leg finally began to cease tormenting her and blew the steam off her teacup. "Then we will have at least caught up with him. The difficulty with Harry is that his values are not those we usually face when rewarding alliance debts. We will have to give him something he wants or it will have no meaning. When you stayed with him in your Cabinet, did you find any clue of what that might be?"

"There is something, "Lucius admitted. "I do not like it, but it may be time for this surrender; especially when I think how likely it is that Harry's scheme will succeed in leading to our son's engagement."

"What is it, love? What did you discover?" she pressed.

Lucius kissed the top of his wife's foot before putting the slipper back on, and went to his chair. "Harry Potter does not value gold or power or political influence. What he wants, the only thing I can tell he really wants, is a family. We are to be that regardless of how long we may resist. If that is all we can do, then we should stop pretending he is a guest in this house."

Narcissa sat up straight again. "You mean to move him out of the State Rooms?"

"And into ours, yes. If he will," Lucius said with infinite care.

"Are you ready for that, Lucius?" Narcissa asked urgently. She did not want her Husband to stress himself too badly so soon after the events of the last few days. He had been brave enough already and deserved a rest.

"No, I am not," he said with control. "But it is what must happen. How are we to present this to him though? I am at a loss. If we mean to tell Harry without making him upset with us we will need a strategy, as he clearly does not share our ideals on debts."

Narcissa shook her head. "We tell him directly; this conversation, why we are presenting the invitation, everything. If we sugar-coat it or deliberately leave out certain elements then I'm sure Harry will view it as a deception. He'll likely be more accepting if we simply tell him the honest truth. He does no less for us. That is how I discovered what he was doing for our son. The portraits would not help me, the elves would not tell me, and Draco was being… Draco. His cryptic answer did me no good. When I gave up and asked Harry he answered directly and without hesitation. He deserves nothing less."

Lucius sighed and nodded. "I believe you are right."

"Glad you think so."

Lucius stood and went a bit pallid as he saw Harry standing in the doorway. Narcissa leapt out of her chair and whirled around to do the same, though her reaction was only to put a hand on her chest and laugh. "Harry! You sneak! You scared me half to death," she scolded.

Harry put his hands up in surrender, flushing. "Sorry, I was walking by and just heard the last bit. What are you telling me the truth about, now?"

"You spied on us from the landing before," Narcissa defended. "I have every right to think you'd do it again. If you don't stop startling us this way I shall have to keep a peacock with me to serve as a Harry Potter Proximity Alarm."

"It'll shit everywhere," Harry pointed out desperately to discourage this very mean yet undeniably effective plan. "-but I promise to stop, alright?"

Lucius chuckled. At the very least his wife was able to get what she wanted at this stage. As they got to know each other better and started to accept the inevitable a bizarre sort of balance had begun to form among the three. It was like playing rock-paper-scissors in terms of their relationship dynamic and a symmetry of checks and balances had already begun to evolve to the point of a long-established relationship between a couple and their consort, or as would more likely be the case here, a Lord and his married consorts.

Harry was steadfast and immovable, so Lucius's cutting tongue and vicious method of argument completely failed to affect him. Harry would present his own view of the situation, refuse to speak to Lucius until he calmed down, and when he finally did Lucius usually realized Harry was right. Harry had the staying power to outlast any of Lucius's sharp arguments until he simply exhausted himself beating his head against a stone wall. In the event that didn't work Harry had a tendency to bully Lucius until he gave up and conceded to Harry's authority in the situation. When it came to Harry, Lucius never won.

Narcissa was a different story. Lucius always managed to get his way with Narcissa. His to-the-point methods of negotiating always had her making concessions for him. The ferocity in which he presented himself easily had her convinced that he simply cared more about the subject than she did, so even if it ended in a fair compromise Lucius still partially got his way. In the entirety of their marriage she had only really won a single argument, and that was Draco's first name. She was accustomed to losing or compromising, and never pressed too hard to be the victor if the subject wasn't absolutely vital to her.

But then Harry had arrived in her life, and she suddenly had an outlet. When it came to him she always managed to soothe Harry's temper and surround him with cool reasoning that resonated with his own, blanketing him in the sense that he didn't have to win to be right. No matter how long it took her, her patience and understanding always won out, even if she was going to Harry to solve a problem the man had with Lucius. Harry had been with them long enough to know that arguing with Narcissa was pointless; she would beat him every time. It was a new feeling to her and she obviously relished in it, and the advice she had gotten from Ginevra Weasley was proving invaluable to her methods of persuasion. She had even won a fight with Harry simply because he couldn't stand the sound of her running her finger over a wine glass until it sang, so he quickly made any concession she wanted to escape the room and the noise.

Harry defeated Lucius, Lucius defeated Narcissa, and Narcissa defeated Harry. Far from making their marriage more difficult, this had had precisely the opposite effect. If Narcissa wanted something she simply could not spare any ground on she would now send Harry to bully Lucius until she got what she needed and if Lucius needed something from Harry and the stubborn man was simply not listening to reason he could send Narcissa to present his case in a way that Harry would find more agreeable. It was a little weird at first, but somehow it bloody well WORKED. Lucius and Narcissa had never had a perfect marriage – there were always fights and arguments and times when they would simply have to accept differences in opinion. Now, with the added benefit of Harry, they had achieved a perfect pyramid of deliberation. Somehow everyone would end up satisfied.

This had even begun to make Lucius less afraid, at least until Harry inevitably sensed the presence of his developing offspring changed the way he would react to the world. No matter what happened then, they would be prepared for it as well as they could be, but in the meantime it was time to stop pretending they weren't… involved.

Lucius took a calming breath and faced the Cambion. "Harry, we've been discussing your living arrangements."

Harry lifted a brow and smiled wryly. "Oh, no. You're moving me again? Is an important guest coming or something?"

"No, Harry," Narcissa said. "But it is pointless to pretend you are a guest in this house any more than we already have; it's counter-productive to why you are here in the first place. There will be a child involved in this, and neither Lucius or I will have the sheer bull-headed tenacity to deny that makes us family, and I don't think you will deny us that fact either."

"If you are ready," Lucius began, "we believe it is time for you to occupy the Master Chambers."

Harry had already begun to give in to shock at the word 'family', and now he was wearing it like a carnival mask. "Your rooms?" he asked them. He looked to Lucius, already understanding what a problem this could be. "Is there a spare bed?"

"Do not insult us," Lucius said, crossing his arms. "There has ever been and will always be only one bed in those rooms."

It really dawned, then, on Harry, precisely what they were doing. They were recognizing him as someone that they were no longer capable of locking out of their personal space. "Not that I'm not grateful; I am. Honored, really. But what brought this on? I know Lucius isn't ready for it, and there are certainly other ways to move forward from here. I'm pretty sure he would have told you what happened in his Cabinet the other night."

Narcissa folded her hands in front of her, then thought better of it and held them out for Harry. He took them in his own. "You treat our son as your family, without hesitation or resignation. You are helping him with a good match that will ensure his future happiness and including him in your circle of friends and allies, and asking them to allow him there. Your presence here has even forced us to end our feud with the Weasleys, which has raged for longer than I have been a Malfoy. You've been treating us all with care and consideration from the start, vow or not, giving us time to adjust to you before demanding the vow fulfilled. Denying that you are one of us now would simply be unreasonable."

Harry grasped her hands and gave himself a moment to take all that in. "What about you?" he finally asked Lucius. "Will you be alright?"

"I shall have to try, won't I?" he said. "If you can behave it shouldn't cause too much strife. Merely keep your hands to yourself unless previously agreed upon."

Harry snorted childishly. "I guess that means you're sleeping in the middle," he said to Narcissa.

She hesitated a moment, as if she hadn't realized what she was in for until just then. "That will do."


	14. The Meeting of the Foils

DON'T LISTEN TO ANIME MUSIC WHILE YOU WRITE. SERIOUSLY.

* * *

"They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their grey visions they obtain glimpses of eternity." ~ Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

_In a vast, empty ocean beneath a blue starlit sky battled a great sea serpent. It was fierce and terrible, and it was two beasts in one – with a head at each end of a long and powerful body that thrashed with monstrous strength. The heads fought in rage; breaking scales, hacking with horns, biting with venomous fangs, burning with searing fiery breath. The battle was endless, balanced, and overall pointless. Both heads were precisely as strong, precisely as mad. No progress was made and all the conflict accomplished was blood and pain for which there was no relief._

_ As they battled on, heedless of the surroundings, the moon loomed close between them. The stars swirled as the moon changed phase rapidly from waxing to waning, from full to new. The sound of a great clock ticking away the moments spent in futile war echoed in the endlessness of space loudly enough to make the water shake with every sound. As the serpent fought itself, the time began to slow; ticking, stars, moon and all until at the height of the full moon it slowed to a crawl. Time did not stop; it simply slackened until movement could barely be seen._

_Two of the stars flanking the moon grew in brightness, unaffected by the time flow, and rushed toward the insane serpent. As they grew it became apparent they were silver long dragons of the oldest and wisest kind, ancient and powerful. They swirled over the serpent and formed a perfect circle head-to-tail, pausing only to take the right place before diving and devouring the sea serpent from each end – both dragons gulping a head until they met in the center to snap their jaws over the epicenter of the thrashing body until it split in two. Their task of ending the pointless fight done, the silver dragons dove beneath the ocean and slept there, calmly, until they were needed again. _

_Time returned to normal and the full moon shined graciously over the now calm ocean, gently undulating with waves shimmering by still starlight._

_Lucius opened his eyes and found himself on a beach, overlooking the place where the dragons slept invisibly beneath the sparkling water. Looking down he beheld a blue bottle, which he picked up and opened. Within he found a letter, sealed and waiting for him to open it._

_Lucius found himself unwilling to do so, fearing what was inside. He lifted the paper and tried to throw it, but it stuck fast to his hand. Panic gripped him and he pulled at it, prying and picking and clawing, but it refused to let him be. Eventually he surrendered and fell to his knees in the sand, where the water met the land. As he gasped for calming breaths the waves lapped at his legs as if to soothe him. There, he could gather his courage._

_Lucius reached down to break the seal. The instant the green wax ruptured a burst of blinding lightning erupted from the letter and engulfed him._

_He screamed._

* * *

When he woke Lucius opened his mouth in a silent scream, then fell back in panic and concentrated on breathing while his frantic heartbeat echoed in his ears. All he could think of was that he hated the dreams that sometimes assaulted him when events in his life were to change. Feeling the familiar elevated bed and recognizing the smell of his own sheets soothed him and he lay back with a grateful sigh.

Everything was fine, so long as he was home and he had his family.

Lucius rolled over and lay his hand on the warm body next to him.

Something felt odd. He opened his eyes and blinked in the dark for a bit before focusing. He frowned.

"Harry, I shall have to smash the bedside lamp over your head if you don't at least _share_," he said testily.

"Mrhm?" Harry mumbled, half-asleep. "Whassat?" Lucius pointed down between them and Harry realized what he was doing. "Oh! Er... sorry?"

* * *

It had been working surprisingly well. Far from the drama Harry had been expecting at the sudden change in their relationship dynamic the shared bedroom thing was causing little strife once they got used to it. A big part of that was the simple fact of the size of the Malfoy's bed. Harry wasn't certain if that had been altered before his relocation or if it had always been that way; either way it was proving to be a critical luxury they definitely needed. Even Narcissa gave Lucius a wide berth as he slept and only came close to him when beckoned, which was happening more and more as time went by, and Harry still had enough room on his side to avoid touching her altogether.

The only real problem that had arisen was Harry's tendency to want to sleep near someone if they were available, and Lucius's clear jealousy and annoyance when he woke to the sight of Harry _wrapped around his wife as if she was a life preserver_. Narcissa never woke up because that was honestly how she used to be with her husband and the feeling so comforted her. Several times now she had slept through them squabbling over her. There had been days when the two men spoke little as a result, and mornings when they had fought over it, but Lucius had eventually come around to the idea that he had no reason to be so upset.

Initially his ire had come from the act being undefined by the Vow and surrogacy arrangement, which was veering dangerously close to adultery in his eyes. Narcissa had taken some time to placate him by getting him into the mentality of a Consort situation, reminding him of their position; Harry was essentially a third spouse and he needed to start thinking of their lives outside the Vow. That would dissipate in time and the three of them would be stuck together regardless of it. What would become of them after that remained to be seen and Lucius needed to be ready to face that sudden change by adjusting to the Cambion's presence as soon as possible.

In the couple of weeks following this change Ginny's letters had reached Astoria and the Greengrass Family had been allowing Draco more time with their daughter. Ginny's contact and the fact that Harry had finally announced his relationship with the Malfoy family (Rita Skeeter was furious that she hadn't gotten to write the column now that the secret was out), along with Narcissa and Ginny's newfound friendship and the fact that Ron had witnessed a Vow for them all combined to reassure the very traditional Greengrass parents that a Malfoy wasn't such a bad choice after all.

Or, more accurately stated by Draco, "They're finally acknowledging that refusing to let me see Astoria would put them in a bad political position."

That method of defining it had made Harry nervous for a while until Astoria had been allowed to come to the Manor for tea, at which point he had seen how she interacted with Draco and realized they were actually well suited to one another. They would be fine and Harry was glad he had helped.

Somehow the success of this venture only seemed to make Draco's parents think they had another debt to pay, which annoyed the hell out of Harry despite their direct explanation of it. The honesty was nice and Harry appreciated it – he made a point of saying so – but no matter how he tried to say there was no reason to pay him back it didn't work. Both Lucius and Narcissa were adamant about giving him something in return.

Eventually Luna had helped Harry with an answer that satisfied everyone.

* * *

It had been a long time since Harry had seen Audrey and her daughter, and his little friend had learned to scramble about in that between crawling and walking stage. As a result Audrey had put bells on her daughter's shoes so that if she wandered off during that split-second when Mum had to look away you could just follow the sound. Harry had to admit it was clever, and now he could even call her Bells instead of Bee-Bee, which was closer to her actual name. Audrey had clearly missed him, and even she was a little disappointed when her daughter took a while to remember Harry despite expecting it to happen. Once she did, though, Harry was treated to her babbles while she had a conversation with him only she could decipher, and Harry said things like "You don't say?" and "Tell me more." to keep her going with it.

Lucius had agreed to come here after Harry's pleading with him for a while. The issue hadn't been being in a Muggle area or meeting Harry's Muggle friend – it had been getting him to wear Muggle clothes. It had taken them some time but Narcissa had tracked down something reasonable that Lucius was willing to wear; black trousers and a simple button down shirt. He had tied his hair back in a low tail (thankfully Harry had convinced him to leave the bloody bow off) and had actually listened to the words and phrases Harry had told him not to use because Audrey wouldn't know them.

For the most part Lucius had sat on the far side of the table from Bells, watching the child and Harry's interaction with her in fascination after he had noticed a toy Audrey had taken away simply reappear beside her on the table. Audrey was used to her daughter's "sneakiness" as she put it and never realized it was magic – she simply believed the girl was an adept thief and got her toys back when Mum wasn't looking. While Harry and Audrey gabbed, he was content to sit back and listen after the initial introduction and ignore the interested glances the woman kept giving him.

That relative peace all went to hell once Bells developed an interest in Lucius and kept trying to pull his fingers and steal bits of his muffin, which was impressive considering she was on the wrong wide of the table to do that. When Lucius simply pulled his hands back to discourage her she screeched in outrage and pounded the table with her fists.

"Bella, that's enough. Leave the nice man alone," Audrey scolded.

Lucius inclined his head at Audrey and said, "I don't mind. My son was a curious sort as well."

"So you're married?" she asked.

Something in Harry's gut began to harden – it was as if his danger sense was alerting him to impending doom. He actually looked around the coffee shop to see if he was reacting to a robbery or something, but saw nothing.

"Yes, for over twenty years," Lucius confirmed.

"My," Audrey said, impressed, "That's a long time to put up with anyone."

Lucius smiled. "Not at all. Narcissa isn't a trial by anyone's standards."

"Narcissa? That name sounds familiar. Is your wife Harry's friend that lives out in the country and doesn't have a phone?"

Suddenly Harry knew what his internal alarm was for and he stepped in. "Yes, that's her. I've been staying with Lucius and Narcissa for a while."

Audrey smiled wickedly and put her elbows on the table, supporting her chin on her fists. "Why?"

Lucius smirked and stood. "Please excuse me a moment. I'll return shortly."

Harry looked warily at his friend, who didn't look any less pleased with herself. "What?"

"You're living with your female friend and her husband out in the country, and I find this out after you've been missing for months? And here you are looking happier with your life. I must say I'm surprised at you."

Harry didn't want to indulge in her games, though he had no idea what she was getting at. "What do you mean?" he asked, stirring his iced coffee to mix the vanilla flavoring off the bottom.

"You have a _Sugar-Daddy_," she said gleefully, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Unfortunately Harry had chosen that moment to take a drink and coughed and spluttered with the force of an improperly opened seltzer. Bells laughed and coughed and spat, thinking he was starting a new game. "N-no, that's not…"

"And here I thought you were having **trouble** finding someone. Now you've managed to snag a married couple. With a son your age, no less! Harry Potter, you are an absolute _fiend_." Audrey stared at him with absolutely infuriating interest. "Is she blonde too? Or a redhead? I know you like the fair-haired ones-"

"And how do you know that!?" He demanded, now thoroughly embarrassed… and utterly unable to argue her points while he tried to blot the coffee off his shirt.

"I saw you with that red-haired girl a while back in the cafe. You looked pretty absorbed in the conversation, so I thought I should leave you alone." she smiled.

"No! That's not-..."

"I don't believe you," Audrey said. "If you're playing with pairs you should just say it and stop deceiving yourself. Honestly, it's like you don't have any pride in your prowess!"

Harry slammed his fists on the table (which Bells quickly mimicked like it was a new game). "I am not- what you said! And holy hell - don't say that in front of a toddler!"

"She has no idea what we're talking about - all she knows is that you're yelling and banging on the table and it's something she should do too, " Audrey argued far too logically for Harry to dispute.

Bells banged on the table four times in a row and then slammed her fist into Harry's arm for emphasis on the importance of slamming her fist into things when other people were doing it.

"Thank you," Harry seethed at her.

She gurgled and stole his straw, chewing on it fiercely while the adults continued their conversation.

Audrey laughed. "Is this a permanent arrangement?"

"Okay, I'm leaving," Harry said tersely. "Have fun with your odd fantasies and feel free to keep me out of them."

"YOU'D BETTER SIGN A PRENUPTIAL!" she called from the table as he walked away, causing most of the cafe to follow him outside with their eyes.

Lucius met him outside not long after, looking far too amused for Harry's liking. He sighed in annoyance. "Tell me you didn't hear that."

"Alright," Lucius agreed, clearly lying through his teeth. "I didn't hear that."

"What are the chances you won't tell Narcissa?" Harry asked.

Lucius smirked. "Roughly that of the Dark Lord crawling out of the grave to kiss my arse."

Harry palmed his face. "Fine, just don't tell her when I'm in the same room."

Lucius chuckled. "That's reasonable."

As they walked toward the alleyway that would lead them back to a Wizarding area, Harry smiled. Oh well, he thought. Inevitable teasing aside, at least he was certain Lucius could learn to like Audrey; if only because the only thing better than watching Harry's friends make fun of him was knowing he had one with a vicious sense of comedic timing. He was certain Lucius being close enough to overhear that entire conversation hadn't been an accident.

* * *

I wrote that dream sequence while listening to TRUTH by Luca Yumi. Don't do this if you want your story to make sense.


End file.
